Do you intend to hide?

How many more years?

2012-01-31T11:48:00.001-08:00

Last night I got a call from my little brother that got me thinking about my life that I had in Provo. Lately, Cat and I have been watching a show that takes place in New Mexico, and the terrain is very similar to that of Utah. I have been thinking a lot about my friends, and I really really miss them.

I miss the friends I had there that I had such a close connection with. This isn't to say that I don't have good friends here, because I do. It's also not to downplay having Cat here. It's really nice to have someone always there. I just miss my friends. I want to live by them again. I want to be able to drop by their places and just hang out with them. I miss that.

I miss how simple life was in Utah before I left. I went to work, I came home from work, I had fun with my friends, I went to sleep, I did it all over again. I look forward to finishing my degree (soon enough) so that I can go back to just having a job. Granted, I'll have a family which will change the experience, but school is a huge source of stress for me. I like learning, but I don't like freaking out about it, and I never ever did well in school until the last 2 years. That's 2 years of good school work compared with 15 years of being terrible at it. It's almost like I'm waiting for the bottom to drop out and to start really sucking at it again. That thought terrifies me.

Strangely enough, I miss Utah. I think about the Utah summers and my heart yearns to be in that time and place. Summer in Utah is really a beautiful thing. Even just writing this makes me feel this powerful homesickness that I haven't really felt since the mission. That's a weird thing to admit. I miss the desert and I miss the Utah landscape.

I miss being in a band. I miss playing the musics.

I've never considered myself a particularly nostalgic person, but I've learned in the last year or so that I am a really nostalgic person. It almost seems like I never felt nostalgia because I was moving to better and better situations in life before now. Now, to be clear, Seattle is a wonderful place. It certainly is the most beautiful city I've ever lived in, and Cat and I constantly comment to one another that this city has ruined us in terms of pretty cities. I will go on record and say that I don't think a prettier city exists, at least anywhere that I've ever been. It just doesn't really compare to the people that made the last chapter of my life so beautiful. At least, not yet it doesn't. I can only imagine what I'll be saying when the time to leave Seattle comes.

Oh, my brain. You so crazy.

Who am I?

2012-01-28T12:02:00.000-08:00

I am many things.

I am smart. I am insecure. I am capable of overcoming everything, but I suck at it when I know someone else is in on the process.

I am engaged to be married on March 17th to an incredibly intelligent, beautiful woman who constantly surprises me with her ability to be my friend and support me.

I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. I believe that there is a God and that Jesus Christ was who He said He was - namely, the Son of God. I believe that He died for my sins and for your sins, and that through Him, we can receive the greatest gifts God has to offer.

I am a musician. If musical talent were money, I would be the 1%. I can play anything I pick up and I can generally fake it until I know what I'm doing. I have been in several bands that have had music featured on the radio. I have made 2 music videos and played to thousands of people at shows over the last 10 years.

I am a student at Seattle University, getting a Master's Degree in Psychology. I am kind and caring and have a burning desire in me to be able to help the people around me live better lives.

I get scared easily but I never, ever quit. I may be weak, but I am indestructible. I am able to make things happen in my life. I am proud, and this is a difficulty for me to overcome. I hate asking for help, but as I get older I realize more and more that I have to ask for help on a fairly regular basis. I feel guilty for asking for things for myself, but I feel compelled to do it anyway. I firmly believe that I will not fail at life, no matter what. There is literally nothing that can overcome my ability to overcome.

I generally think I am a good writer (though a few sentences in here are cringe worthy to say the least).

I have a good intuition with other people. People trust me. I have a hard time really trusting other people, but there are people I trust with my life. I make quick judgments but try to overcome them. Sometimes I even do. I have a lot of faith in the general goodness of humanity but very little in myself.

I am a pot of contradictions and logical fallacies.

I have the finest friends on earth, and I mean that. I would put my group of friends against anyone else's group of friends, and I have literally 0 doubt that my friends would never come up wanting. I have the kinds of friends that movies wish they had. I love them and cherish them with every ounce of my being and would cut off my fingers for them if they needed me to.

I am scared of the future but believe that, ultimately, it will be beautiful.

I am complex, but I make sense to myself. I am sorry for the difficulties that being around me brings with it, but ultimately, I'm not too sorry, because despite everything wrong with me, I am a good person.

I am Taylor McCarrey. Hear me roar.

Last night's dream

2011-12-09T03:43:00.000-08:00

I'm walking through a wilderness. I'm surrounded by my cohort from school, and we are the first people to ever walk on this planet. God has created us from nothing and we know it. After we have walked with Him and talked with Him, He gives us magnetic balls to carry and sends us on our way. We don't know where we are supposed to go, but in the end, it doesn't matter because we can feel the pull of the Eternal in the form of the magnets in our hands. We are on bikes heading down a path towards the unknown when someone in the group says "did you feel that?" Everyone else begins to say they have felt something, a pull, and they insist that it is God pulling us in a different direction. I felt nothing.

As we begin in our new direction, we cross a road. I am starting to feel the pull myself, but quickly lose track of the pull when I see that we are starting to bike through mud. I look down and watch my tires get swallowed by the wet earth. Someone's magnets slip through their hands and fly into the air.

We are suddenly at a building in a desert. The desert is vast and the building stands alone against a backdrop of a broken sky. Everyone files in. Everyone's magnets are going crazy except for mine. They are flying out of their hands. They are shooting out through windows into the distance. I see one of my cohort run to a door and shout "TAKE THEM BACK, THEN!" I watch in horror as he throws them away willingly. I look through a window and realize that he was throwing them to a figure standing in the distance. He thinks he is giving the balls to back to God. Suddenly, in a coordinated effort, all of the magnetic balls return and begin attacking the building. Through the chaos of breaking glass and screams, I see who my friend had given his magnetic balls to. He is walking towards the debris. I recognize him. As he walks towards the building, I say his name. "Satan." He stops in his tracks, shocked that I recognized him. He has short, tidy hair, and is wearing neat slacks and a green polo shirt. My heart stops in my chest, but only for a moment.

I am leading a line of survivors away from a burnt out building. I have my magnets in my hand. I don't know where we are going. I tell everyone not to look back as I see the smoke being blown in front of us by hot desert air.

A final paper

2011-12-01T00:42:00.001-08:00

The following is a final paper I wrote for one of my classes. The topic was to encapsulate parts of the class or program that were especially meaningful to me. I don't know why, but I feel like I should share it with the interwebs. Enjoy, interwebs.

As a whole, this quarter has blown my mind on several different levels. The idea of choosing which of the many things I've learned has affected me the most is a little bit difficult to do. How do you quantify the amount of meaning that a particular discussion has for you in your goal to be a therapist? And how, after assigning number values, do you know that the numeric legend will be universally true? In the coming years, I don't know which of the many discussions will come to mean the most to me. As it stands, I feel I must start this paper by apologizing for not being able to include a definitive answer as to what the most important things I've learned have been. Instead, I shall have to make due with what sticks in my mind right now as the most important things that I have experienced.

One thing that really is sticking out in my mind is the Levinasian idea of ethics. What a beautiful thing! The other is, in fact, my responsibility. I feel like my parents should be informed that their training has been vindicated and authenticated by a Lithuanian-born French Jewish philosopher. I consider myself a very religious person, and I do try to adhere to the idea of being as Christ would be if He were in my position. How fitting that a Jewish man has so thoroughly captured the teachings of another Jew.

Thinking about Levinas has changed quite a bit of my daily life. As I walk to and from the bus, I cannot help but look around to see what I am doing with my responsibility. The homeless person on my path now calls to me. I don't say this to make my professors feel good or because I want to kiss up. I honestly cannot help but look at every homeless person I see and really ask myself if I can do anything to help. My whole life I've been taught to be a Christian and somehow I missed the point. In one quarter, in learning to see through a set of eyes made in the phenomenological tradition, I have come to find what it means to love and honor the face of an other as the One I call “Savior” did, which is to say without reservation and without first casting judgment. Levinas somehow found a language to define what it means to honor an other, and in describing it, he has gifted it to me, which will allow me to gift it to others.

As I write this, I am struck that my first inclination is to use the word “gift”. An ethical and unavoidable life based on loving and honoring the other is a life based on opening oneself to an infinite amount of pain, the trauma Levinas spoke of, as it were. This brings to mind a discussion that I had with a very good friend of mine a few years ago. We were discussing the nature of God and where the source of His power lay. Initially, my thoughts were that it was based in the ability to command the universe and be obeyed universally. My friend rightly pointed out that this cannot be the source of His power because we as people do not always obey when He commands. I mused about infinite wisdom, infinite ability, and all of the other “infinite’s” that God possesses. My friend listened and agreed that they were all parts of His makeup that differentiated Him from us, but that each still lacked what truly defines God as our God. My friend then suggested that maybe being God has less to do with being infinitely powerful and more with being infinitely vulnerable. His point was that, because of who God is, His power does not protect him from trauma in a Levinasian sense, but rather puts Him in a place where He has to feel it. As such, it is my opinion that this program is not only in the business of teaching one to be a good therapist or even a good person, but to be more like God.

This opening to trauma is not shied away from. Nothing in anything we have read or discussed in any of the classes tries to sugarcoat that one at all. We are putting ourselves on the path to an existence marked by the pain of the other. I have really come to appreciate the way that this class in particular has made it clear that we as therapists will be changed irreversibly by our contact with clients. My experience has always been that therapists who have been in the game for 20+ years have a certain serenity that can't be forced or faked. This isn't to say that seasoned professionals are zen masters who float on a cloud of personal existential Nirvana, but rather that they seem to know a beautiful secret that is only learned in listening to and accepting the pain of others. I think to my experiences as a full-time missionary and how they have changed me. There was a time when I was walking with my companion to an appointment. We were living in a little town called Daugavpils in Latvia at the time, and as we neared the apartment complex we were headed to, we saw a man on the ground looking around, stuck in the daze brought to him by the alcohol he had drunk. Forming around this man was a puddle of blood that was collecting from a gash along his jaw. We were shocked to see people walking past, openly looking at him but ignoring him. My companion and I rushed over to pick him up. The man we were to meet with stuck his head out of his window, and we called to him, asking him to phone an ambulance. We pulled the man off the ground and sat him down on a bench. He looked at us incredulously, like we had just done something that should have been impossible. People were walking by and giving us the same look. One of them actually said “that's very nice of you two, but you're wasting your time on him. He doesn't deserve your help”. I was horrified. I looked at this man and saw in his eyes that he agreed with the words spoken by the passerby. I looked at his face and realized that his gash was caused by a rock that had gone through his face and broken his jaw. I don't think I'll ever forget that man. Moments before the ambulance got there, he looked me dead in the eye and said “are you angels?” This is the life that we are choosing. We will be the ones to lift, and we will do so because it was what angels would do, and we will be changed because of it.

This program makes room for a life based on faith in ways that I didn't think psychology ever would or could. I was taught by Brent Melling, one of the more influential professors I had during my undergrad years, that the word “psychology” originated from the understanding that the psyche meant the soul, or the uniquely lived human experience. Since hearing this and contemplating the implications, I have been very sad that psychology as a whole didn't seem to make room for the lived experience, for the presence of faith and hope, in a person's life. As I have come to find out, this lived experience is precisely what we are taught to honor in this program. I think that is a beautiful thing.

My experience with my cohorts has been one in which we accept and love one another. At least, I hope that has been everyone's experience. It certainly has been mine. When I had to miss a day of classes at the beginning of the quarter, I was afraid to ask for help. Past experience had taught me that asking for help would be met with luke-warm responses at best. I didn't think I would receive 10 emails from other members of the class who were not only willing to help, but almost seemed happy to do so. I have never had such a support system in any academic undertaking. I didn't think that such things existed! That experience was so telling to me and such a beautiful relief. It inspired in me a desire to be the same for my classmates. I want to be there for them, and I want to give them help as freely as they have so often given me help.

I have been humbled by the incredible intelligence exhibited by every other person in this program. The experience of being around people who are intelligent is not new to me. I have always been very fortunate to have friends of the highest caliber in terms of intelligence, drive, and compassion. However, in general, my experience with intelligence in the classroom has been one in which a kind of competitive undertone exists. That undertone simply does not exist in this group of people. Not a single person in the class is trying to step on anyone else to showcase how smart they are, and it is so beautiful to be a part of! It seems I am amazed at the incredibly well-thought-out and well-articulated statements of my classmates on a daily basis. I don't think there is a single one of them who has not impressed me with something they've said in class. Their drive and proficiencies inspire and make me want to be better in my studies and understanding. I have found that I cannot do my best work without first consulting with them. Their ideas and ways of understanding are proving invaluable to me. I am not used to having this type of experience. I have never ever been one to consult with anyone else when it came to school work. I have always hated group projects because they invariably turn into one or two people doing the work for the rest. There always seemed to be that one lazy person who could not have possibly cared about less the task at hand or how they could contribute anything of worth to the experience of collaboration. Somehow, the lazy, unmotivated student does not exist within this group.

I am finding myself changed by the experience of having a workload like this put on me. Nothing about this quarter has been easy. I have been separated from my girlfriend (who then became my fiance) by a distance of about 1000 miles. I have been in a new city where I knew next to no one when the program started. I have never been good at school. I have had a job that I've kept up for most of the quarter, and I have a position at church that requires me to spend my Sundays in meetings discussing teaching plans and the needs of the members of our Parrish. To top it off, I lived in a house on Beacon Hill that was very lonely for me, as no one interacted with each other beyond the minimal salutations common decency requires of people sharing a space. I have been broken by far lesser things. Somehow, though, I am still progressing forward. I haven't missed an assignment in any of my classes, which is particularly amazing to me when I stop and realize that I have never done that for a single class in my entire life. To say that this has been an easy time in my life would be a bold faced lie. This is hard stuff. The pressure to perform well, the fear of making mistakes, the changes that my life has brought to me, all of them push down on me in ways that I didn't think I could handle. Yet, through the exterior coal that makes up my imperfect self, I can see shining bits of diamond starting to form. Perhaps it is a bit egotistical of me to say that I see myself as a diamond in the making, but on some level I think it's true. Whatever I am made out of right now is being changed by the pressure of this program into something of more worth and beauty. Even better is the understanding that this change is occurring in a way that I could not accomplish on my own.

I am grateful to this program for giving me a language to describe what I have always held in theory to be the way a life should be lived. Further, I am grateful that this deepening of a theoretical orientation, this phenomenological view, is giving me permission to live it.

More Strength to O'ercome

2011-11-20T23:33:00.000-08:00

Tonight, I went to a Stake fireside that featured one Mr. Richard L. Bushman, author of a fantastic biography of Joseph Smith. It was a fairly basic fireside at first glance. His wife spoke, and her topic was the importance of keeping a journal. When he spoke, he talked about Joseph and Emma and their relationship, which was very moving, and then took questions from the audience. Nothing ground shaking, but lovely nonetheless. The purpose for writing about it really comes from the closing hymn. It moved me into a very tranquil space. See, the last 2 weeks have been pure insanity for me. The next week will be very nice for a few days, and then another week of unbelievable torture, and suddenly, my first quarter is done. Then I get a month off, during which time the 5 months of living apart from Cat will come to a close. With all of this in my head, with the frustrations and terrors of that come as part of school, and with the ever increasing dissatisfaction I am experiencing with long distance dating (it's the best thing that ever happened to us, but never again), I was grateful beyond words to have that little moment when I felt the Savior close to me.

St. Peter's Cathedral

2011-11-13T21:10:00.000-08:00

When I started dating Cat, I don't think I knew what to expect. Scratch that. I know I didn't know what to expect, but I only know that now because of the gift of time and hindsight. That we are even together is a miracle. We should not work. We are so different in so many ways, and yet we have so much in common.

Our relationship has gone in stages since last February. When we first started dating, we both expected it to be over soon. She told me later that she thought we would date for a month, I would leave, and we would both go on with our lives because we gave it a shot. I think we were both shocked when things went really well really fast. Despite both of us feeling that we could never be the typical Provo couple, we said I love you after two weeks, and I think we both meant it. I knew I loved her very quickly in the relationship. I knew I wanted to marry her very quickly as well. I think it was after two weeks that I brought up that I didn't want to rush things, but I couldn't help thinking about the upcoming summer. I knew I didn't want to be away from her. In Provo, we were enamored with being with each other. We didn't have any pressures or obligations, and if things didn't work between us, that was ok because we hadn't been dating very long. Somehow, she came to the conclusion that coming with me to Seattle was what she wanted to do with her summer. I thought I knew what love was when we left. I thought it was the crazy, intoxicating feeling I felt when I was around her. I was wrong.

In Seattle, things took a turn for the difficult very quickly. I was incredibly depressed because I missed my friends in Provo and couldn't find a job. Because I thought that love meant being able to word vomit on someone without any recourse, I would talk about how sad I was all of the time, never once stopping to consider how that would make her feel. She said she loved me, so that meant she wanted to hear everything, right? Wrong. That is not love. Love is not using someone as an emotional garbage can to throw out your wasteful feelings and thoughts. Love is finding acceptance in the face of another, a safe place as it were. The kind of toxicity that comes from constant selfish spewing is poisonous. In love, you have to love yourself and be okay taking care of yourself. You can't put that kind of burden on the other person. It's just not fair.

Even though things were difficult, and even though we came very close to calling it quits for good, we stuck it out. She stuck it out. Even though I put her through the wringer with my selfish complaining, she stuck it out. She would come to my house on the bus, a two hour ride from where she lived. We would spend all of our time together whenever we could, and I loved it. Even when I didn't love it, I couldn't get enough of it. There were certainly times when I didn't want to be around her, but invariably, after dropping her off and saying goodbye, I would drive away wishing she was still sitting next to me. It was in one of those moments that I realized that love as it really is makes room for bad times.

When Cat left to Utah, I was crushed. I had to learn to function without her and struggle with my own fears and inadequacies. My last long distance relationship was many many years ago, but the distance killed it, or rather, the distance brought out the reasons it needed to die. That breakup was ugly and bad, and I was so terrified that it would happen again. Somehow, it didn't happen. The first few months after she left, we actually grew stronger and closer. Things weren't perfect. They never were, and I honestly don't think they ever will be, but that imperfection and what we do in the face of it brings us closer to the truth of Love than anything else can.

The last two months have been crazy. Two months ago, I didn't know which way it would all go. One month ago, I knew she wanted to get married, but there was no ring and I was afraid that the lack of a physical token on her finger would somehow convince her not to want to be with me. The logic isn't there, but it's the truth. Today, she is in Utah with a ring on her finger and I am in Washington. Somehow, the difficulties of a long distance relationship still exist. Our relationship has difficult things about it. I have doubts and worries from time to time, and I know she does too. This, however, I think is the closest to Love that we have yet come. I don't get a crazy feeling in my stomach when I think of her. My heart doesn't beat faster and I don't lose my ability to talk or reason when I hear her voice. That's not real love. What I do know is that she is there for me in the best way she knows how and that I am there for her in the best way I know how. She has stuck by me through some really hard times, and she has done it in circumstances that I know I couldn't have stuck it out in.

I guess what I'm saying is that Love is not simply an emotion. When I see her, I do smile like an idiot, and there are certainly times when she makes my heart pump faster, but those times are none of your business. Along with those moments, our relationship has moments when I get upset or hurt, and I know that there are times when she gets upset or hurt by some of the careless things that I do. And yet, on March 17th, she and I will be sealed for time and all eternity. Love transcends our weaknesses that become so apparent. Love allows room to grow out of our weakness, and we do so with the support of the other. Love is beautiful because it exists in the face of the great difficulty of combining two lives into one. Simply put, Love is the choice to commit oneself entirely to the betterment of the other, regardless of how difficult it is and how little the other can deserve it at any given moment. Cat loves me, and I know this because I am so undeserving of such a perfect commitment, and yet she gives it to me. I love Cat because I can't help myself. Through thick and thin, she has been there for me from day one. Looking back at the last 275 days (I counted, don't worry about it), I am grateful for her consistency and strength, and I love her so much for it.

I can't wait until forever. With her at my side, everything is going to be okay.

part 2

2011-11-11T22:22:00.001-08:00

It's been about an hour since I published the last post, two since I finished the text. I feel more calm, as I always do when I get things like that out of my system. However, I'm hit with a strange new feeling for having said how I felt about today: guilt. I don't know what to make of that. So, whoever reads that last one and is hurt by it, I'm truly sorry. It was a general outburst aimed at the sky. But it is what it is, namely a snapshot of a moment, and I promised myself I wouldn't censor my posts anymore, so up it stays. Please forgive me.

I heard it on the wind, and I saw it in the sky

2011-11-11T20:00:00.000-08:00

Lately, I've been trying to not be so negative in the things I say and do. I generally think I do a good job. When I do have things that are negative, I am getting so much better at brushing them off. Today was not such a day.

The day actually started last night when I couldn't sleep, despite having been up for far too long. My mind wouldn't stop thinking about all kinds of stuff. The test that was handed out on Thursday that was due in a week. The paper due on Tuesday. The guests coming over this weekend that I can't be a good host to because I'm so broke and busy. No bigs, however, worrying can be a pretty normal occurrence for me. When the morning comes, I'm dreaming of SNL, particularly the Beastie Boys doing a rollicking rendition of "Sabotage". The weird thing is that they're looking right at me. It's like they were trying to tell me something. I woke up with this feeling that the day did not have the best of intentions towards me.

I got in my car and noticed that the gas gauge was low. And by low, I mean below the "E" low. At this point I start to get very nervous. I can't have my car run out of gas on me. However, I can't put gas in it because my bank account is the proud owner of $17, and that has to last me until at least my new loan shows up with 8% interest that I needed to get because my job cut my hours to the point that I could barely pay my bills, let alone eat. That should be showing up in a day or two, hopefully, but if not I have to make it to a week from today. In the meantime, I have been the subject of charitable donations. My friend up here takes me out to eat every time he see me, and while I appreciate it, I am starting to resent it. I'm not a charity case. I am normally quite capable of taking care of my own needs, thank you very much. And yet, I keep taking the food because part of me knows he's right, I do need it because I can't afford to buy any myself. And that is a seriously depressing realization. So in my mind, I've got my budget set. I get to work by a miracle and realize that somehow I'm going to have to put some gas into my car. I'm out of options at this point. I figure $10 should be enough, so I make plans to do that when I get off work. At work, things start off fairly well. I make it to my first break with nary a problem. All is well. During the break, I talk to my boss about my upcoming dismissal, and we come to an agreement that works for both of us. In short, I agree to stay on call and he agrees to let me keep my bus pass. Awesome.

A little after my break ends is when the fan turns on. Nothing has hit it yet, but I'm starting to smell something waiting in the wings for those blades to start spinning. An uneasy feeling comes over me. The door opens, and in walks Coworker X. Coworker X is one of those people that is nice and does nothing wrong, and yet somehow manages to find all of the spots in my nervous system that just make me cringe and twitch. She starts running around the office, talking about everything she sees. Everything. EVERYTHING. I'm not talking, "oh look, a new plant". I'm talking "hey look, I see this thing that I see everyday. Did you know that this thing makes me think of this other thing. Oh look, a computer! Oh look, a phone! Want to hear me sing a song now? LALALALALALALA" OHMYGOODNESSWILLYOUPLEASESHUTYOURWHOREMOUTHANDLEAVEMETHEGOODHELLALONE?! I don't give a good crap what idiot song you heard on Glee last night. I could not possibly care less if you think it's a horrible representation of marriage. I don't care about your opinion for songs to play at my wedding. Nothing that comes out of your mouth has any interest to me in any way, shape, or form. Your voice is made of razor blades dipped in pure evil. STOP. TALKING. As she begins to motor around, making sure we all know every STUPID thought that goes through her mind, my blood begins to boil.

She starts singing a Bon Jovi song and the first little bit of fury breaks through. "Don't. Sing. That song. Just shut it."

"Oh, but it's a good so..."

"I don't care what you think. Stop singing it. Now."

I feel a twinge of guilt for letting myself crack like that and think that I should feel bad for that. I realize I don't and force myself to ignore her.

The song changes to another one, a song that I normally like but am not particularly in the mood for. I cut my losses and focus on the song in my head at the moment. Her piercing voice cuts through my thoughts, but I force it aside and enjoy my chosen song.

The work day is winding down and I am winding up.

She opens her mouth again, and this time she spews forth her opinion on the state of California. You know, the one that I grew up in and will love to the day I die. "I hate California so much. It's such a trashy place, and it just wants to be Florida."

Splat.

"Excuse me, you're from Florida and are making broad generalizations about MY state being trashy? Really?! You do know that's where I grew up, right?"

"Where are you from?"

"Los Angeles."

"Oh, that's even worse! California orange juice sucks and they just wish they had Disneyworld."

"When was the last time you were even there?!"

"Oh, I've never been, I hope I never go."

Snap.

"Coworker, you need to shut your mouth right now. I don't mean that as in 'please be quiet'. I mean if you don't stop talking, I'm going to lose. It. Shut. Your. Mouth. Now. I don't want to hear anything more because your are infuriating me in ways you don't even want to know."

"I'm just saying.."

"Stop saying! Just stop! No more talking. No more noise. Shut your mouth." At this point, I have to turn my back from her because she has pushed my anger to the level it shouldn't be. My body is shaking from the rage at her so blindly insulting a place that I love so much, and for no real reason at all. I'm tired, I'm stressed, and all I want is to eat something that isn't a freaking protein bar and not see anyone but my fiance, who sadly is finishing up her degree in a different state. Whatever. I could deal with the end of work, make it home, and relax. I would be able to talk to my fiance tonight, no big deal. Work ends and I leave as quickly as I can. I get to my car and proceed to the nearest gas station, a feat that can be surprisingly difficult when your power steering is dead and you need to make tight turns from a dead stop. I pull into the gas station and sacrifice my $10 on the altar to the gods of the Middle East. It is at this point that I remember that I had some food that I had left at someone's house completely on accident last Sunday, food that consisted of chicken and cheese. Real food that wasn't a protein bar. With the bread I had in my cupboard, that might be just the thing. I call the person who lives with my food and find out that someone should be at the house in 15 minutes. Perfect, I think, I can run in, get my food, and completely miss the traffic that would be starting to really get bad in the next hour.

I arrive at the house and realize that no one is home. At this point, I'm so hungry I'm shaking. I make an executive decision and walk to a local grocery store and get the cheapest thing I can find: a slightly stale box of donuts for a buck. I walk out, rip the package open and, with trembling fingers, shove food down my throat. I begin the two block walk back to the house just as the rain starts coming down. Thick, heavy rain. The kind that beats you as if you are a red headed step child. The lights at the house have remained off. I knock on the door again and get into my car. I decide that, since I'm already there, I might as well kill some time. I give it another 20 minutes, during which time I kill half the donuts. I call my friend and tell him that I'm going to leave. As I'm saying this, someone gets home, so I quickly end the call and run inside to get my food. I pull it out of the fridge and freezer and notice that someone was kind enough to eat half of my basically new log of cheese. Thanks, guys. You're the best. At this point, I don't care anymore. I race back through the rain to get into my dying car. I force it to turn around and set off for my home.

In case you were wondering, that little 50 minute detour set me right in the middle of rush hour traffic, so that's cool.

I get home, immediately get some food started, and as soon as it's cooked, head up to my room, which needs to be cleaned in preparation for my guests tomorrow night. I flip the switch in my room. Nothing happens. I flip it a few more times. I realize that my light is dead. Normally, that's not a big deal. You hop in the car, drive to the store, and boom, you have a new light bulb. The problem with this is that I now have $6 to my name and need the gas to get to work tomorrow morning and church the next day. Thumbs up, everybody, for rock and roll.

I search my house for anything that I can use as a light bulb and manage to steal one from a light fixture that no one ever turns on. I get it in, and lo and behold, it doesn't work. After a few minutes of finagling, I get the stupid light to turn on. I go downstairs, and while I'm downstairs, I miss both a phone call and a text message. Grand. I return the call (no answer) and call my fiance. I listen to her day, listen as she gets ready to head to the movies, and think "at least I'll have time to talk to her since the movie doesn't start for a little over an hour". As it turns out, this isn't the case, and the phone call is over. It is at this point, my brain's anti-anger system shuts down. My fist flies out, and now I have left my mark on this house. A roommate pops his head out, and I tell him not to worry about it. I jump in the shower, and there I remain for as long as I can.

This brings me to now. My room is still a mess, I still haven't done a damn bit of work, and I have to be in bed shortly so as to be ready for tomorrow's day at work. I hope my brain will shut down long enough for me to pass out because, even now as I type this, my face is flushed and my heart is pounding. Today managed to hit all of the buttons in just the right order. Well played.

I am pissed off, world, about things that I should not be pissed off about. Am I proud of that? Absolutely not. But you know what? I don't even care.

This one's optimistic

2011-10-15T19:39:00.000-07:00

There was a time when I was preparing to go to grad school and I was so excited about everything that meant. It meant a new place, new faces, and a new life. I was talking to one of my professors about what lay ahead and she said a few things that didn't make sense until now. The first one being "check out the environment before you go." She told me she might have made a different choice if she had known what it would really be like for her to go to school in San Diego, implying that she didn't like the weather and surrounding city life. This makes sense coming from her, as she spent one Christmas break in a snow shoe race in Norway. Oops.

However, that isn't the point of this blog post. To be honest, I'm actually kind of getting used to the weather here. The other day, the morning came and brought several clouds and much drizzle and I thought to myself "it's a beautiful Seattle morning!" So either I'm acclimating or slowly going insane.

No, the second thing she said is what really prompted this post. I asked her how she had a social life while she was in school. She laughed in my face. "And what makes you think I had a social life in grad school?" That one makes sense to me now, too. In popular media, grad students are always shown as hurried, disheveled people constantly talking about the reading that they have to do and I always just sort of figured that was a weird Hollywood-ism, kind of like the enhance button on cop shows. Sure, it exists, but it can't really exist the way it's portrayed. Oops. As of this writing, I have looked one person in the face while talking to them in the last 48 hours, and that was my landlord. Every moment besides that has been in my room, either on my computer doing stuff for work (how people successfully navigate work and grad school is beyond me, I'm barely staying on top of it) or sitting on my bed reading about either existential phenomenology or an overview of Freud (which thankfully I don't have to read anymore since I finished it last night). In fact, that's what I should be doing right now. It's just that the thought of reading one more thing right now makes me want to turn off. Not cry, not scream, just sort of turn off. Maybe short circuit would be a better word.

It seems my life is fast becoming an isolationistic fantasy island retreat. People exist on the phone but nowhere else. Once a day, I have the privilege of talking to my amazing, beautiful, fantastic, wonderful fiance (ps, I'm getting married, but since I don't have the ring yet [it's being made, should have it next week], we aren't shouting it from the rooftops just yet) who keeps me sane. I feel bad sometimes because I think I might be putting a little too much on her. Especially today, when I was so mind fried that I didn't know how to string words together, but I was so desperate for human contact that we still ended up talking for about an hour. For that one hour a day, the world is made of pink fluffy shoes, but after that, it's back to the bed to read more. It gets quite maddening.

Anyway. Enough of this frankly pathetic pity party. I have a fat stack of books to read and a test due on Tuesday. Cheers.

ps - I was recently called to be in my Elders' quorum presidency. As such, I've been tasked with occasionally updating the blog. It's the one that says U1 EQ Blog. My specific responsibility will be the music post of the week. I just posted my first ever posting. I might actually copy a few from here and post them there as well. Happy reading!

Writing is Exploration

2011-10-06T22:54:00.000-07:00

I am two weeks into grad school, and I feel like I am at a loss of words to describe the sensation. It's tiring, exciting, exhilarating, and terrifying all at once. When I was a kid, I was an interesting combination of lazy and ambitious. I had big dreams, my friends. Dreams of success and happiness. I also never ever once believed that I would be able to achieve any of my dreams. I remember very clearly that in elementary school, I was very good at everything I did. When I made it to sixth grade, my grades dropped considerably, and I didn't intend to have it happen that way, it just sort of did. I was so mad at and disappointed in myself that I decided to not bother trying anymore. I had given what I thought was my best and failed. I had let my parents down and I had let myself down. It took me a long, long time to get to a place where I believed I was capable of succeeding in anything, let alone academic pursuits, and even then I didn't really believe that I was actually able to excel.

Something over the years that has really helped me overcome my fear of my shortcomings has been writing. Something about seeing my fears displayed by words has made them tangible to me, and I can handle that, for some weird reason. The blog posts in the past that I have written that have been the most useful to me were the ones that really took some deep, personal stuff, and laid it all out for the blogoshpere to see. Sometime in the past year, I have stopped doing this as much, particularly since I moved to Seattle. I'm not really sure why I stopped, but parts of me regret it.

Something else that used to help me quite a bit was playing music with my friends. At least once or twice a week, I had 2 hours blocked out where everyone would come together in a room and we would create noise. It was so beautiful, and it gave me a deep sense of accomplishment to know that I was creating art. With Everson, I knew that everything happened because I made it happen. This isn't to say that the others involved weren't doing anything, but when it came to practice times and shows, 99% of the time it happened because I made it. It felt good to know that I was capable of making art and organizing other people's schedules to make art. It gave me hope in myself and my ability to do and overcome my failings. With The Indecision, the setup was a little different. I wasn't in charge or making sure practice happened, and if I didn't push, someone else would. But I still made art with some insanely talented people. Dan Jackson is the best songwriter I've ever met, and to know that he trusted me with his songs and allowed me to add my personal touch was an honor. It felt beautiful to create art.

Art is important to me because it allows understanding to take place. I understand myself better and hopefully people understand me better. At this point in my life, art has taken a backseat to preparatory work. I am preparing to support a family. I am preparing to give support to whatever community I end up in. I am preparing myself to be the best therapist that I can possibly be. It's a lot of internalizing, not a lot of creation. I feel the loss in my life. I can't create music right now because I simply do not have the time. Creating music allowed me to exorcise my fears, and at the moment I have nowhere to place my fears, no outlet for my anxieties. It occurred to me that I do still have writing, though. So perhaps I'll start writing more on this blog. I want to write my fears and I want to write my joys. To me, this is a weird kind of art that I can still do. It's expression from me to you that allows for communication in ways that I can't honestly do otherwise.

I'm not sure why writing is so freeing to me, why I can write better than I can speak. It doesn't make much sense, because both use the same things to convey. I could say all of these words out loud to anyone at anytime and it would literally convey the exact same message. Maybe it's because there's no inflection, no tone for anyone to hang onto. True art, the best kind, allows the observer to fill in the blanks with the pieces of their own soul that they don't have a place for. Or maybe it's the other way around, maybe true art allows us to take a piece of what is offered and use it to bridge gaps in our own souls.

Maybe writing is so freeing to me because there's no room for interruption or correction, at least on an immediate level. Agree with me or not, my bit will be spoken by writing and all you can do is write an angry response, maybe stop reading. Every once in a while, someone responds that they don't feel as alone because of what I wrote, and I feel good because I've created a connection in the neurological map of the universe.

Maybe that's what it really is. Connection. I want to connect and be connected with. And maybe that's why I haven't written as much lately. I have a connection. I love the connection that I have. I plan on spending the rest of my life strengthening that connection.

Maybe I shouldn't try to explain anymore.

Dear world,
I intend to write on my blog more often. It helps me sleep better at night.
loves,
~taylor

If not now, when?

2011-09-18T09:54:00.001-07:00

I read a blog post on perfection today, and I agree with the author that it is the cancer of our society. The pursuit of perfection has claimed lives and will sadly continue to do so. The author makes a great point in saying that we need to be real in dealing with our lives. He leaves out one slightly important point though, a point that is the key to really destroying the hold that perfection has on us.

We need to be okay with our imperfections. As in, we need to really be okay with and love ourselves despite our imperfections. Really love.

Now, this isn't to say that we need to be okay with the fact that we have eating disorders, or that we have pornography problems, or that we can't write songs as good as other people (curse you , Dan ), or that we take our anger out on other people, or that we are argumentative, or that we're broke but don't want to be, or that we're secretly gay, or that we're not where we want to be in life, or *insert whatever else you secretly hate yourself for*. Being complacent with things you hate about yourself leads to the dark side, my friends. And by dark side, I mean a stagnant, dead sea of a life. Nobody wants their lives to be a huge pool of dead water.

What I do mean is that we need to be okay with the potential that we have. For example, if you currently have a hard time saving money and are always broke, accept the fact that it's possible to have that problem and still be a good person. We read in Ether 12:27 that we are given (note, intentionally given, not allowed to have) weakness that we may be humble. Given. Humble. Ether 12 is a great chapter to read on this because it addresses a few important facts, namely that this is an issue of faith, both in ourselves and in the power of the Atonement, or rather in the Truth of change and forgiveness. Put another way, it addresses the idea that we are not now, nor will we ever be completely defined by the moment we are currently living in. (Another AMAZING chapter is Hebrews 11 . When/if you read these chapters, really try and think what the personal application is for you. What does it mean to have faith? Who do we have faith in? How do we apply that faith? How do we increase faith in ourselves? What is the better country that God has prepared for you? Ultimately, these are questions you will need to answer on your own.)

My favorite definition of humility is seeing things as they are. We are given weakness to see things as they really are; namely that we are not perfect and that, through the grace of God and His Son alone are we able to overcome our weakness. Nowhere in any set of scripture that I can recall reading does it say that we should hate ourselves for our imperfections. I feel confident in that assertion because I've read the entire set of standard works cover to cover.

Friends, that cancer of perfection takes root even if we know we are imperfect. We need to believe in our potential more than we believe in our current skill-set. If we can't see a puppy without kicking it, we need to 1) accept the fact that we can change, 2) realize that every good person on this earth is working on their own puppy kicking habit in their own way, and 3) stop kicking the puppies. If you can't stop immediately, keep trying, but don't ever ever ever ever ever tell yourself that you are a worthless person because you have a predeliction for the yipping sound that puppies make when your foot meets their ribs. Everyone who has ever walked this planet, including the Savior of all mankind, had weakness and temptation for things they wanted that were contrary to a perfect permanent record. And for you folks who cry the heresy call, think about the temptations of the Savior. True, he didn't do allow himself to act on His temptations, but the fact that they are called the temptations means that he wanted them. He wanted food when He was fasting, and He wanted a comfortable life. Instead, He got hunger (which he probably hated, especially since it made his body weak and limited his ability to move and help), and He got nailed to a tree. Somehow though, He seems to have really been okay with the skin he was walking around in.

In all seriousness, I beg you on my knees with my hands clasped and my heart bleeding, PLEASE don't hate yourself because you aren't perfect. Please. Please. Imperfection does NOT decrease your worth as a person, nor does it decrease your potential. In my honest opinion, imperfection increases beauty in a person. It makes you human and relatable. Again, if you have something about yourself that you hate, that is not enough cause to hate yourself. Look at yourself, accept the warts, and learn that no wart has roots deep enough to corrupt the heart that keeps those warts alive. Then get to work removing the wart. And do it with a smile. Because great people are made greater by the scars those warts of imperfection leave.

Oh, you psychology boys. So sensitive.

2011-09-14T22:57:00.000-07:00

I feel a bit of a rant coming on, something that has come up in my life over and over. This post is a response to something someone recently said, not to me, but about me.

Yes, I am sensitive. Do you know why I'm sensitive? Of course not, you're not thinking of the possibility that there's a why, you just think that I'm crazy and stupid. Allow me to educate you, oh person who will probably never read this. I am sensitive to my emotions because my livelihood will depend entirely on my ability to identify and handle them. I need to know when to push emotions, when the pain is too much, when the pushing is doing more damage than good. If I am not completely and totally aware of the emotions of myself and everyone around me, I am failing. I used to think I was really good at this, fully and completely capable of controlling my emotions. Turns out I'm not. I was just really good at shutting people out of my life so that they couldn't see my emotions, which basically means I'm emotionally retarded. That lack of emotional maturity on my part hurts the people I love sometimes, so yes, I am keenly aware of my emotions at all times. As it turns out, my awareness of and attempts to understand my emotions sometimes backfire and hurt the people that mean the most to me. It's a double edged sword that I am trying to learn to control. Not surprisingly, it's really freaking difficult.

Anyway, since my livelihood depends on this, I have devoted the last 4 years of my life to the pursuit of emotional awareness (note the difference between emotional awareness and emotional vulnerability). I have devoted at least two more years (probably 5 or 6, depending on if I get a PhD) to further understanding emotions. Everything I do in life has an emotional core to it, and I feel driven to understand that core because I believe that is the essence of my purpose in life. I am on this planet to serve people, and I am to serve them by helping them learn how to deal with themselves. I feel lucky beyond words to have such a strong sense of purpose and to know what I want to spend the rest of my life doing. I feel joy and excitement in this.

The point of this rant is to say that, yes, I am sensitive. That is by design. I believe it makes me a better, more capable person, and I believe that it will make me a better, more capable therapist. I know that I'm not very good at it yet, but I also know that I'm trying my best to get the hang of it. And I know you don't get it. So go ahead and enjoy hanging out with your meat head men friends, the ones who ignore their emotions. You know, the ones you tend to have terrible, slightly codependent relationships with.

I don't know what this means, but I know I feel better

2011-09-08T01:27:00.000-07:00

I am standing on soft ground, and the earth quakes inexplicably. Its rage is explicit and violent, and it is coming for me. Sound waves escape the grinding rocks and assault me, and I freeze in fear. My inner ear is flooded with that sound that has terrified me since childhood. The wrenching of the earth as its guts curl together. The complete and total lack of control I feel consumes me and I am a little boy again, curled up on a bed clutching anything I can wrap my hands around to give me some semblance of control and safety. It is all in vain. With every movement, I feel less in control, and the futility of my actions comes starkly into focus. No matter how tightly I squeeze, loose earth and rocks will never anchor me to anything. Time slows and I let the soil fall out of my hand. My mind takes advantage of the extra moments afforded it and reveals itself as my ally against instability. It occurs to me that it is out of times like this that mountains are born. Mountains that frame the sky and then crack it open. I realize that any hope of solid ground will have to wait until the birth of whatever mountain may be pushing its way out of the earth’s womb. I close my eyes and imagine what the view would look like from the top of a freshly birthed peak. Beneath my feet, a crack appears. The mountain is coming. My voice rises slowly, a phoenix praying for redemption from the fire. “Grant me that I may be wise enough to discern, humble enough to understand, and strong enough to overcome.” The earthquake is almost over, my mountain almost here, and I am ready to climb.

With every mistake, we must surely be learning

2011-08-26T17:53:00.000-07:00

Two days off in a row with a potential third tomorrow. Probably not the best thing for me at the moment, but not the worst thing, either. With my time off, I have a lot of time to think, something that I used to really really enjoy. I always thought that, if you were afraid to think, you were afraid to live. Maybe it's still true, but lately, I don't like having time to think.

My brain, in all of its awesome power and humility (sarcasm?), has the amazing ability to analyze. It's a special gift of mine, one that I hope to build a career on. My ability to analyze allows me to cut away the fat from arguments and ideals and open up the raw underbelly to the outside world. Unfortunately, my Ginsu brain is double edged, and it has a tendency to cut both ways. Decisions are laid open, and with them, fears and insecurities long since scabbed over.

I think about how long until school starts and how long I've been waiting. Waiting has never been something I'm particularly good at, but it's something I have done for a while. Waiting for love, waiting for purpose, waiting for success, waiting for understanding (both from within and without). I think I'm a better person for it, but waiting stretches me in a very uncomfortable way. It shows that I'm not complete yet, and then leaves me with time to ponder the imperfect, unfinished parts. My education represents a large part of me that is yet incomplete and therefore an imperfection.

I think about long distance love. I am lucky to be in a long distance relationship with Cat, a woman who tries really really hard to be what I need her to be and lets me try really really hard to be what she needs me to be. And please note, I said "woman", not "girl". In my time of thinking about her, I think about how distance is so incredibly difficult to deal with. There are many times when I just want to go home to her at the end of the day, put on a movie, and feel her fall asleep on my chest as we watch it. Unfortunately, there have been some really difficult things that we have had to do by ourselves because the other one of us simply couldn't physically be there. Having time to think means having time to think about being physically alone while not being emotionally alone.

I think about the place I left to come here. I was in such a hurry to leave Provo that I think I might have thrown out some of the baby with the bath water. Not all of the baby, just some. *strange mental pictures abound* I left because I felt like it was time to leave, and it probably was on some level. Perhaps it was time to leave so that I could learn that I was leaving behind a lot more than I thought I was. I don't know if I could live in Provo for the rest of my life, or ever again for that matter. It was good for that part of my life, but I don't know that I need it for anything else. Salt Lake, however, really doesn't seem too terrible a place. Sugarhouse would be an amazing place to live. I have come to realize that I do love Utah. I love the weather, I love having family close by, I love that I know where everything is, I love that I feel a connection to it. I love that it feels like a home to me now, after all this time. Maybe that's why I had to leave when I did. I needed to see that I have a home there. In fact, the last time I was there, I realized how comfortable I was there. That comfort was heavenly and was worth a lot to me.

I think about the upcoming school year and I wonder what it holds for me. There is that part of me that wonders if I will succeed or not at this. I have a lot of passion for what the program claims as its main theoretical orientation, so I think that should be sufficient to claim the day, but in this time of thinking that I've been so abundantly blessed with, my brain finds things to worry about, specifically if I'll be good enough for it. Scary as it is to admit, I sometimes worry if it will be good enough for me. Granted, I can't imagine what on earth this program could present to me that would leave me wanting, but you never know, and I'm a worrier. So there's that.

Having said all of that, I am happy to announce that my fears are far less likely to demolish me than they used to. I can look most of my fears straight in the eye and not flinch. This does make me happy. Let me repeat that. I am happy. Sometimes it's just a little easy for my brain to think itself out of being comfortable with a good situation (my life).

open letter

2011-08-03T22:47:00.000-07:00

Dear World,

You and I, we have a strange relationship. It is defined by our push and pull, the way we dance around one another, each of us trying to impose our will on the other. In some places, I know that you are mine, world. I have laid my will out to you, and though you fight it, you know that in the end you will lay under my feet, and you will call me your master. In other places, it's just the opposite. No matter how I struggle, you have the ability to keep me crushed and pinned. The trick that both of us seem to be pulling on the other is that, sometimes, the only reason we keep the other subdued is because we ourselves are unsure of the correct course of action. Even stranger, I think we both want to find a way to coexist. After all, no one wants to live under the oppressive boot of another's will.

Sometimes, though, you throw me a bone, world. You give me a little hope in the choices I've made. This is particularly impressive when you factor in the desires of the Father and the father of lies. I am pulled and am pushing against you three forces in my efforts to secure a place of my own. The father of lies throws doubts in my way. The Father, surprisingly, sometimes sits back and watches to see if I believe it. World, sometimes you bring nuggets of peace. While I enjoy having you under my boot, I love nuggets of peace. I just wanted to thank you for looking past my faults and improperly placed will and giving me those peaceful nuggets when you do. In the end, after the dust has settled and the final score card has been tallied up, I hope that you'll tell me I gave you some nuggets of peace, too.

Keep up the good fight. I'll do the same.

love,
taylor

last week

2011-07-15T21:06:00.000-07:00

What poetry is there in the common? How can two people on four legs walking around a lake be beautiful? Is it the moon, cutting through the sky with its vibrant face? Is it the light from downtown reflecting off the thick, low hanging clouds? Did it spring into existence standing on a dark dock?

What beauty is there in a loud, crowded restaurant? How can the shells of muses on the wall shine so brightly? Is it generated by the frozen faces of the mighty caught mid-roar? Or is it rather to be found in the quiet upstairs doorway that leads to a wet roof?

Where is the majesty of life found in the house her grandfather built? Do the stained-glass windows contain within them true joy? Perhaps in the brightly colored rooms, or in the blue light reflecting off a counter top?

The poetry is found in the rhythm of two voices bouncing over the lake's water, hands held to keep from being swept away. The beauty is in the bright smile of raucous reverence and deference offered to the remains of those days. The majesty is found in arms wrapped around each other while a small screen explains inside jokes.

Love is a funny thing because it exists in our minds and hearts, inexplicably and without good reason. And yet, you're good enough reason for me.

Where dreams and reality meet

2011-07-05T21:37:00.000-07:00

Good heavens, what a month since I last wrote, and GOOD HEAVENS what a 2.5 months since I left Utah. I think about everything in my life that has happened since I left and I'm honestly kind of blown away. It feels like a completely different life, but one that I cherish completely.

Since the end of April, I have: played a farewell show, finished an album, lived in 3 cities (Provo, Everson, Seattle), moved everything I own twice, said goodbye to some of my absolute best friends, been duped into an Amway meeting, gone completely broke, gotten my first credit card, felt soul crushing loneliness, pure bliss, and everything in between, flown (and landed in the dark for the first time) a plane (twice), been depressed out of my mind, been so happy I could hardly speak, been paralyzed by fear, overcome said paralyzing fear, worked for a day for Environment Washington (an environmental group who lied to me and still not paid me for the day I worked for them), got a job at Seattle Children's Hospital and met a few people. And all of this without starting my grad program. I still have over 2 months until school starts for me! What on earth am I doing here?!

I'll tell you what I'm doing here. I'm learning more about life and myself than I thought possible to get in a measly two and a half months. I'm still fairly uncertain about what the future holds. To be honest, I'm a little terrified of being here because grad programs are a big deal. I barely graduated high school! I am afraid of the weather (these clouds are made of the crushed souls of orphan children) and I openly admit that I miss the sun. Surprisingly, I openly admit that I have found myself missing Utah on several occasions. I really miss the terrain. I am a child of the desert, it seems. I miss the super hot summer, too. Today it hit 83 degrees and I was in heaven.

I'm not sure what the point of all of this is. I suppose I just needed a chance to vomit my brain out onto the interwebs. And let all 3 of you who read this know how much I really miss you. Not just because we had a good time a few years ago, but because I miss having good times with you now. Not because we were in a band together, but because that band was my excuse to be in the same place as you. Not because we were in the same ward, but because we did some wicked awesome stuff while we were in that ward together. I don't miss familiarity nearly half as much as I miss the familiar faces that I love so dearly. I find myself jealous of the people who get to be around you, my friends. I wonder if they realize how wonderful you are and how lucky they are. I'm already planning my vacation back before school starts.

Look, over there! A distraction!! *runs away*

The lord of La Mancha

2011-06-01T23:34:00.000-07:00

A month ago, when I left Provo, I had some pretty big ideas about what would happen. I thought "ya know, this won't be too difficult. I'll go to Seattle, get a job, set myself up there and everything will be just great!" Oops. Let me tell you, it hasn't worked that way at all. I feel so trapped by circumstance that I can't believe it and I don't know how to breath in all of this thick, oppressive self-anger. I am so mad at myself for being so STUPIDLY blind to the possibility that maybe, juuuuuust maybe, this wouldn't work. What on earth would possess someone to say that they can pick up and move somewhere with a month's living expenses covered and think that would be enough? I feel like everything in my life is a struggle to push a rock uphill, but not just a rock. We're talking a huge rock with lots of little spikes, tiny ones that occupy every space you touch. For good measure, they have poison on them, but I'm not sure if the poison was there before I started pushing or if the poison came from me.

Today, one month after getting here, I got an email, not even a call, not even the courtesy of a human voice, but an email saying that the job I had interviewed for in person as a second interview was going to be given to someone else. A stupid, pre-written BS email saying "we're sorry, but we liked someone else better than you, but golly it was sure fun talking to you". It actually said that! It was nice talking to me? It was nice talking to me about a job that you aren't going to give me? Gosh, you're the best. Thanks for being so considerate of my feelings, I really was afraid that you didn't enjoy our conversation together. I spent the next 6 hours sending out resumes, applying to jobs online, and chances are pretty high that tomorrow will go about the same. To further complicate matters, I have a car that will need to have the timing belt changed in about 350 miles. This means that, even if I do run out of money, back out of my housing agreement (which I really shouldn't have taken without a job), and get my deposit back, I can't go anywhere because my car will literally not make it. I am stuck in this situation and I am stuck here because I was too stupid to leave a way out for myself. Too. Stupid. At some point today during my job application process, it hit me, or I hit it, or whatever you want to say, and I broke down. I cried the worst tears in the world - the tears of the self pitying, and I didn't even deserve to.

I comforted myself with the thought that, at least tonight, there was a potential meeting with someone Cat had randomly met who said he might have a job opportunity for me and her. Now, Cat has a job, so she doesn't need a job opportunity. I, on the other hand, am turning over every rock that I can find. He said it was a position with a company that does marketing for corporations online and they were looking for a few people to fill some positions. Great. Let's do it. What I didn't find out until we got there and were seated in place far away from the door was that I had been suckered into sitting through a pyramid scheme meeting. Amway. Great stuff, people. All you need to do is pay $150 and you can make $68. It's so easy! I heard all kinds of great stuff tonight. "If you're afraid of pyramids, then you're just saying you're a wimp." Oh really, I am a wimp for not wanting to give you what little money I have left so that I can get less than half back? "I want to do this so that I can have more money than my sister." You must really love her. "I remember we bought a lady a new car and she was crying and was so happy." Very nice of you to do that for her.(That last one sounds nice until you realize that the same guy who said that was bragging about how much more money he was making than his well educated brothers and sisters and parents. Classy.) I spent the night listening to the high priest of the church of the almighty dollar preach to the crowd about how they too can save their souls by wrapping themselves in the filthy lucre of the world. Just a little more cologne, sweety, and no one will be able to tell that the parts of yourself that you had to kill to 'make it' are rotting away inside of you. The whole time I wanted to know what these people thought their legacy was going to be. What mark will they leave on the world that will define them to future generations? The guy talking was proud that he rents a different house every weekend just to see what it's like. He was proud to say that he writes off car purchases for business expenses. And we're not talking company Hondas or Fords or Toyotas. We're talking luxury cars fully loaded, and for himself. Three hours of my life were stolen from me. Three hours I could have been sending out resumes, or reading, or playing my guitar, or doing something to make myself a better person. I wasn't told how long of a meeting it would be, just that it would be a meeting with someone who was vetting reps for a marketing company.

Since I started writing this, both of my parents called me. My parents are amazing and I'm grateful for them. That doesn't change the fact that today has sucked and sucked hard. This stupid rock needs to be pushed up that stupid hill, and no amount of griping will remove those spikes. That doesn't make me hate it any less. It does, however, make me so much more determined to beat this whole thing so that I can proudly say "I overcame, I beat this, I put this rock on top of this hill through sheer brute force and will power". I can overcome this, and I will, but in the meantime I needed to get that out.

To those curious about the Don Quixote reference, I can't help but wonder if I'm really riding a donkey around and attacking windmills or if I'm so down on myself that I'm not recognizing my ability to ride a steed and slay monsters for what it really is.

I once heard a tale

2011-04-23T10:53:00.001-07:00

Last night was my goodbye rock and roll show. It was lovely. The interesting thing about playing shows is that you don't really remember a whole lot of specifics from the stage. Generally, I just remember waiting to go on, setting up, and getting offstage. Last night was different, though. I have several very clear memories.

I remember very clearly Neil walking offstage and preaching. He might have thought it didn't go well, but I loved it. Well played, sir.

I remember looking over while playing a few times and seeing Sean. Good heavens, what a talented man he is. Anyone who has ever played in a band with Sean knows that he is such a unique and important part of the music. Without Sean, The Plan would never have gotten off the ground, and Everson would never have been anything. It meant a lot to me to see him onstage with me one last time. It is no understatement to say that he is one of my best friends that I have ever had and that I love and respect him immensely.

I remember looking over at Christian and thinking how amazing it was that he even agreed to be on stage with me after everything that went down in that band. He played amazingly well, of course, and I am very happy that I was able to play a show with him one last time.

I remember Will doing a fill (or was it his solo?) and completely blowing me away. This happens regularly when I play music with him, and I love that he never fails to blow me away with his playing. Thank the heavens that he responded to that Myspace ad forever ago. Not bad for a fifth grade teacher who doesn't play regularly, eh?

I remember Jon messing up the lyrics and thinking it wouldn't be the same if he didn't. What a full on pleasure it has been to perform with him. And how great it has been to be his friend.

I remember looking over and seeing James rock out and feeling so proud of him. That boy is a genius and a super talented musician. It has been an honor playing music with him.

The Indecision is something that I am beyond proud to have been a part of. Dan, Thom, and Al are talented beyond belief. Each of them could easily make a living being musicians, and I am ecstatic that I was able to attach my name to theirs.

I remember trying not to cry during that last song. I also remember failing miserably. That's okay. I know who came last night, even though I was pacing before I went on, and then I was onstage for about 2 hours. But I know who was there. From the bottom of my heart (not to sound like a broken record), thank you for coming, both those who wanted to but couldn't and those who did. My time playing music in Provo has been one of the most important and special times of my life and I wouldn't trade it for anything at all.

Psalm

2011-04-15T00:04:00.000-07:00

Oh Lord, my God, I fall in humility on my face before Thee. Thou hast truly been merciful unto me and the ones I love, shewing thy love to us in miraculous and strange ways. Thy power is great and Thy will is correct. Thou hast made thyself known through the rains that give life to us, through the sun that gives us light and direction, and Thy face is even visible by the light of the moon that Thou hast placed in our dark nights. Truly, we never walk alone, and it is because Thou hast taken mercy on us. Lord, protect these, Thy servants, for truly they are. Honor them for their diligence in living lives that honor Thee. Smite down the forces that seek to destroy and demolish so that a path may be created that is paved in personal salvation. Lord, Thou art merciful to us who are unworthy of mercy, and yet we ask that Thou turn not Thy face away in this, a time of need. Thou hast healed the sick and afflicted, and Thou hast binded the wounded and weary heart, and this Thou hast done through countless ages and for countless people. Thou has given us Thine Only Begotten to pay the ransom that is too dear for us. Truly, we are so undeserving, and ever yet will be; but Lord, we ask Thee this, and do so in confidence that Thou wilt hear our prayer, that Thou wilt honor the sacrifices laid on the altar in the name of family and service to Thee. Our hearts are broken, our shoulders weary, and our feet cut and bruised. Wilt thou apply to us the healing Balm? Wilt thou prepare a place that we may rest in security, knowing that Thou art yet mindful of us? Lord, we know Thou wilt, because Thou hast so done in the past. We thank Thee for the kindness and mercy shown us by having angels to minister unto us in our times of need. We thank thee that there yet exist stars that can pierce the gloom around us. We thank Thee for each other, for the blessing bestowed on us of individual health and happiness. Lord, we ask Thee to forgive us our fears and provide sufficient light to move forward, if in Thy wisdom it is not requisite for the end to make itself clear as of yet. Please forgive us as we struggle to overcome our trials the best way we know how, and again ask Thee to sanctify our efforts. Our love for Thee is true, and ever yet will be, because Thou hast made it clear that Thou lovest us. Thine truly is the glory, and the Power, and shall be forever.

Amen.

It happens too fast to make sense of it

2011-03-15T13:34:00.000-07:00

Lately, my chest has been getting tighter and tighter. I'm not sure what started it, but I know what is contributing to it. Anyone who has talked to me in the last month or so knows that I am not happy with my current employment, which sucks for a number of reasons. My job used to make me pretty happy. It was for a company that I felt offered a good product and was completely and totally fair in every sense of the word. Of course, there were people who called who didn't understand the terms of service and were total buttholes about everything, but overall, I felt like I was a part of a company that I could proudly say I supported. And then they were bought out. And then policy changed. And then the bottom line became making money instead of serving the customer. And now I'm part of a company that I can't honestly say I support.

The problem with this is that when customers ask me questions about the service, I answer them truthfully. When they come up against a piece of policy that didn't exist before but now stands between them and satisfaction, I can't help but honestly agree with them. The policy is stupid, it doesn't make sense, and it does make it very obvious that this company has become about getting people to give them money, not about trading services (hosting and support for money). This change in treatment leads to more phone calls with more angry people. The more angry people, the more difficult it is to grin and bear, particularly when I agree with them.

When angry people call in and talk to me like I'm a half retarded twelve year old, it bothers me. I understand the policies have changed, but you can rest assured it wasn't my idea, and in fact I have been truly bothering my supervisors by consistently and repeatedly confronting them and telling them point blank that these changes are idiotic. I'm not stupid, I've never been stupid, and in fact am probably more intelligent than a great deal of the people that call in. When condescending people tell me that I don't know what's going on or that I'm not smart enough to understand something, it really sets me off. I know I'm smart enough to get it, and let me promise you that I can get pretty fierce in defending my intellect. I will out-argue you, and you will hate me for it because you'll know I'm right. If you beat me in an argument, it's because you're right and I'm wrong, and if that happens, I will admit I was wrong. But if I know I'm right and you're talking down to me, I will not budge.

We recently hired a gaggle of new folks, and yet somehow we're still horribly short staffed. Today, I looked at the call board to see who was on phones, who was supposed to be on phones, and how many people were supposed to be at work. There were 4 people logged into phones, 4 people on calls, 6 people at their desk, and 11 people scheduled. We were down by 7. Why on earth is this okay? 5 people called out, and of the six in the office, only 4 were on the phones. It doesn't make sense. Nothing has changed.

Another thing that has been freaking me out is my future. It is fast approaching and I have nowhere to run. My dreams lately have been more and more dark and unsettling. Granted, I'm not dreaming that I'm a serial killer or anything, but I am dreaming that my life is completely out of my control. The other night I dreamed that I was on a vacation with my parents, but it wasn't a vacation. Me and my dad saw that there was a place offering a chance to drive a really nice sports car, so we took it. We got in and all of a sudden, we could barely move and I could barely hold my head up. The car took off, but there was no steering wheel. Just thinking about it makes me feel claustrophobic.

My life is good, but it scares me having so much in the air. It's petrifying and terrifying and all that. My heart struggles against the weight of it all, and it is difficult for me to look it in the eye.

Silly Syd

2011-03-08T13:54:00.001-08:00

Faces are round and fit on the ground and sometimes are covered in fur
These words don't make sense, but it's all for the best 'cause I'm not sure what I'm trying to say.

The walls all around threaten to fall down but the molding holds them up strong
But the time soon will come when the holding is done and down will fall baby et al.

Yes, but what does it mean, Basil?

On the precipice

2011-03-03T10:28:00.000-08:00

There's this cliff in front of me. The guard rails are gone and I need to jump off. I can't see the bottom of the chasm, but I'm told that there is a big soft cushion being installed down there that will help me land safely. The cushion isn't quite ready yet. The view on top of the cliff is beautiful, has been for years, but I've already seen it. I want to fly and fall and see something new. Patience has never been my strong point. For the time being, I will wait and flex my wings with my feet on the ground, imagining what the wind will feel like when it finally hits. It will be a beautiful fall indeed.

wait, who what now?

2011-02-14T23:09:00.000-08:00

The last 2 or 3 weeks have been weird. Not in a bad way, just in a very surprising way. I have tons that I want to write about in my life, but I don't feel like I have the time to commit to doing justice to the experience of New York, the love I have for Neibaur, Leila, and Paolo, the unbelievable city of Boston, the blessing and joy it has been to have one Al Deans staying at my place, the power of music in my life and how deeply I love and appreciate it, and the surprisingly wonderful Valentine's Day I just enjoyed. Suffice it to say that my life is going well right now. Just wanted everyone to know. Hopefully I'll make time to add more details soon about the who, what, where, and why, though I won't pretend to know the how.

PS - I finished the scratch tracks for my album today. There will be a total of 13 songs. In no particular order, they are:

Victory (at 400)
In the Foreground
Eastern Bloc
Dizzy
Silent Phil
Dream Come True
A Simple Question
The Daylight Here
On The Floor
Leonora Caroline McCarrey
It'll Be Okay
InstruMental
Everson, WA

Some of them are Everson tunes, some of them were going to be but they never got finished, and one or two of them were never intended to be anything for anyone. I'm excited to see how this bad boy turns out. :-)

To you, if you still even read this

2011-01-19T10:05:00.001-08:00

Hello, you. It's been a while since I've written to you. I haven't seen you in ages (years?), but last night, you crept into my dreams. Granted, I was hopped up on Nyquil and Alka-Seltzer, but still. In my dream, you and I were at my old ward house in Pasadena for our wedding reception. It felt nice and it felt nice for the right reasons. As things have turned out between us, I know that you are now married with a beautiful little girl, and to be honest, I don't regret how everything turned out. It was still really nice to spend time with you again though. I know we aren't friends on Facebook anymore, and when I realized that, I knew that's how it had to be and I'm not upset about it. This might be the only way I have to get in touch with you that won't make your husband upset, and I'm okay with that too. I don't want to upset anyone. I just wanted to let you know that I saw you in my dreams last night, and it made me happy. You are, and always have been, a beautiful, fantastic person. I miss you, my friend, but I am okay with this and accept that this is how it must be. Thank you for making me smile, even if it was only your memory.

3 libras

2011-01-12T22:23:00.000-08:00

Since completing school, I'm finding it harder and harder to stay in Utah. Not that I'm having a bad time and not that I hate the people I'm around, but I'm starting to get restless, like the time has simply come. I feel like my wheels are spinning, something I've alluded to before, but this feels different. It's like my wheels are spinning, catching on less than before, but they're spinning deeper in the mud. Or maybe they're riding higher on the mud. Regardless, there's a weight off my chest that is real and tangible and I'm glad to have it gone, but what now? I was talking to someone tonight and I realized that, when people ask me what I did today, my only answer is "work". That's not bad, but it's a strange step to take. Perhaps if my work was personally satisfying, it would be different. As it stands though, despite my absolute love for my employer (not even exaggerating, I really love the company I work for), there is a certain element of personal joy that is missing from my job.

I'm going to New York to visit in about 2 weeks. Half of me almost expects to feel a strong desire to stay there instead. We'll see how this whole thing plays out. Regardless, it's good to be done with school. Now I need to focus myself on something worthwhile.

Rant on happiness

2010-12-02T12:38:00.001-08:00

Happiness is not a choice. I don't care who you are, what you say, how much you quote Selligman or truly believe that if you close your eyes and think happy thoughts your body will be filled with joy, it won't happen. I'm sorry. You can be okay with your life (happy) and still be upset, frustrated, or angry. But the emotional experience of happy in its truest, most real form cannot and does not exist on demand. If it was a choice, then most of the people on this planet are retarded. And that super annoying chipper guy that we all know would rule over all he sees.

No Fear November

2010-11-01T17:26:00.000-07:00

In 3 weeks and 2 days, I will be 27, and this fills me with fear. For multiple reasons. I've decided that I will devote this month to my fears based on the idea that fears are useless unless they are confronted.

I am afraid to open up and really let people into my heart. I'm afraid of this because, over the last 6 years, my heart has been assaulted several times over, and I honestly don't believe I can take that kind of hurt ever again, that if I do, I feel like I would die. Just the thought alone of ever feeling that pain again makes me want to give up.

To face this fear, I'm going to make a concerted effort to let people in.

I'm afraid.

Beneath the Churchyard Tree

2010-10-28T15:47:00.000-07:00

So, after about a year of all kinds of fun stuff, The Indecision's album is finally up and ready for people to enjoy, and this fills me with happiness. I'm really proud to be associated with this band and to say that I had anything to do with it. Give her a listen, you can purchase a copy all for yourself if you so desire, and it'll even come with spiffy album artwork. :-)

I'm interested to see how bandcamp.com plays out. So far I'm very impressed with it as a site...

one offs

2010-10-20T12:08:00.000-07:00

Truly, finding happiness in the exact now is both the most important and most difficult thing that can be undertaken by a sane person.

If, for the rest of my life, someone gave me money to write, produce, and perform music, I would die a happy man.

If, for the rest of my life, someone gave me money to help them resolve their personal issues and live a more happy, fulfilled life, I would die a happy man.

If man weren't meant to fly, God wouldn't have given him the capacity to create airplanes.

Pretty girls with pretty smiles intimidate me. I'm just saying.

I'm taking a class on marriage and relationship skills, and it's completely changed what I want in a relationship. Imagine that.

Sometimes it seems I would rather shoot myself in the foot than be predictable.

I'm staying in Provo longer than I initially planned because I have a good job, a good house, good friends, and because I don't want to drive cross country in the middle of winter with everything I own piled into a four door sedan.

I am suffering from senioritis. What a beautiful thing to be able to say.

I look out the window and what do I see?

2010-10-06T09:09:00.001-07:00

A slightly opaque reflection staring right back at me!

I just read through some of the older blog posts from a few years ago. I'm a little surprised by how full of venom some of them are. You'd think that some of those posts were directed towards someone who had killed my mother or something! It is comforting to know that I am not the same person I was a few years ago, or even a few months ago, for that matter.

I feel like the not-so-fun events of my life have all turned out well, which is a good feeling. I don't know that I would be too willing to run back and experience some of the things in my life, but I also don't know what all I would really change either. The times spent in my house on 500 when I was so sad about nothing, the girls who I let break my heart, the girls whose hearts I broke in return (and subsequently felt bad about), all of it has made me who I am. I still get down and frustrated, but I think my ability to overcome is at an all time high and I'm in remission from what a good friend of mine once called a vicious cancer, namely anger.

My reflection in the window is a reflection of who I used to be, and past myself I see a lot of really beautiful stuff. It even looks like there's a tree out there with popcorn on it!

Hopes and Dreams

2010-09-26T22:16:00.000-07:00

This week has been a bit of a drainer. From Tuesday on, I've felt an awareness of my own mortality that makes me feel frail. I've spent a lot of time wondering what Jessica's life goals were and which ones she didn't get to live and how she feels about it. I wonder how she would have felt last Sunday if she would have known it was her last day here. Would she have felt ready? Whether or not she did, I'm sure she was.

Yesterday, I went to go and visit the girl who was with her when she got hit. I have been to the hospital several times, but yesterday it was just me and her. Everyone else was at the funeral. She told me that about half an hour before the accident, Jess turned to her and said "if I died right now, I would die happy". Inge laughed and said "not me, I'm not ready to go!" When they crossed the street later, Jess was on the inside and took the hit of the car full force. Inge got the left overs of the hit, and in all likelihood, Jessica probably saved Inge's life, which I imagine is how Jess would have wanted it to be. Inge now struggles with guilt over that, and told me she wonders why it is that the good ones suffer and the bad ones flourish. She said there's a saying in Estonian that goes something like "God watches out for the drunkards and wife beaters". I don't think that Inge is a bad person, and I told her so, and she started to cry, saying that she felt so helpless to be there for the other people who are suffering. She said she felt so bad for the guy driving the car and she wished she could tell him that everything was going to be okay. It seems that there were no bad people hit by a car that night.

I'm so worried about Jessica's friend, Ronnie. She was a sister that was in the Baltics as well and she has this look of pain on her face that I'm too familiar with. I'm aware of what the feeling is that produces that face and I wish so bad that I could take that feeling away from her. It's toxic. It feels like you can't handle feeling anything anymore and the only way to deal with it is ignore it. It starts to feel like it wants to choke the life out of you, like it has a mind of its own. Since the accident, she has spent about every possible moment in the hospital with Inge and looks like she hasn't been able to get much sleep. That horrible pain that she feels, I know what it feels like. It's the worst pain and I don't wish it on anyone. It's hard to see on someone else's face after you've seen it on your own.

Having another young person die in my life has truly made me come face to face with the idea of mortality as a temporary position we each hold in the universe. In this short time, we have to somehow live a good life and help others while trying to take care of ourselves. It's a daunting task. I'm pretty sure that Jessica accomplished this with what she has done. My hope is that my life can be acceptable to God when He decides it's time for me to come home.

This life and everything about it are gifts. We can't expect anything and I don't think that we should, really. All of the blessings I have, health, a job, friends, family, life, all of it could be taken away in the blink of an eye and I would have no right to say anything about it. God truly is good, but giving up the power over your life to him is frightening because it might take you somewhere you don't feel like you want to go. I suppose that's what faith is all about, though, feeling that fear and standing your ground anyway.

When all is said and done, I'm positive we will stand in awe as we behold how perfectly the plan of our God played out and how fair it truly was to everyone. In the interim, let's all of us remember that what we get is what God would have us get, and that everything will work out for the best.

Beyond the Gray Sky

2010-09-21T10:09:00.000-07:00

Dear Jessica,

Let's be real, yo. We didn't know each other particularly well. I remember seeing you on the mission once or twice and being very impressed with your hair. Is that weird? It was so long and dark and beautiful. I think the first time I saw you I quickly averted my eyes because I wasn't supposed to think that the sisters looked good. At the same time though, way to make being a sister look good. I'm just saying.

When you got back, Anna Ransheva told me that I should get to know you better, that we would be two peas in a lovely little pod. I was hesitant to call you because I was coming out of a period of losing faith in women, but I took her up on it and called you that one night. If I remember correctly, you were sitting on your sister's porch. We talked for three hours about all kinds of stuff. In one fell swoop, you became a light that broke through some very thick clouds, and I was so grateful for that. I don't remember exactly how, but I awkwardly asked you out on a date and you agreed. I was excited enough that I wrote about it in my journal, that this dark haired girl who actually had a great personality agreed to go out with me for a picnic lunch. We went up Rock Canyon, sat down and ate some tasty, tasty sandwiches and then walked around for a bit. We went to the mall, we went to Jamba Juice (where you picked up the book on health and opened it at random to the page on healthy sex, which was priceless), and then I took you home. I moved to Washington about 3 weeks later and that was about the end of it all. When I was trying to figure out what to do with myself that summer, whether or not to move to Washington, you were on the list of reasons to stay. I don't think I ever told you that.

The last time I saw you was at a mission reunion. I don't remember when, but I remember seeing you there. When I found out this morning you had died in so senseless and tragic a way, the floor started to melt underneath me. Driving to work was a weird, sort of ethereal experience. I got to work, and I just couldn't bring myself to talk on the phones. It didn't seem right to talk to people about money and accounts knowing that a good person just lost her life.

Jess, I didn't know you very well, yet somehow you affected me. I hung out with you one time, it couldn't have been for more than 4 hours tops, and yet I remember very clearly that you liked 311, that at the time you were working at Wal-Mart at the customer service desk, and that you actually enjoyed it because it gave you the chance to help people. I remember one moment in particular very clearly, and I have remembered it more than once in the past few years. We were driving down Freedom towards the mall, and I looked over at you. You looked back at me and smiled and that smile combined with your eyes conveyed a love and respect for me as a person. We didn't even know each other well and yet that look was one you give to someone you have known for a while and accept completely. Jess, do you realize what a gift it was to make people feel like their friendship mattered to you? As one of the countless people who you gave that gift to, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I don't know the reasons for what happened, if there were any. It's possible that a senseless accident took your life and that's the end of it, and it's also possible that a loving Heavenly Father needed you back at that exact moment. Whichever is the case, I do know that you are missed here and appreciated there. Keep the love alive, sister. Thanks for being such a bright star while you were here.

All my love,
Taylor

http://www.heraldextra.com/news/local/article_ccd8fcf4-79ad-5e48-b341-5aa2a9f4f801.html

If you want unconditional love

2010-09-19T23:13:00.000-07:00

Tonight on Facebook, one of the people in my friend list said she was having a hard time and wanted someone to show her some unconditional love. So I chatted with her and asked how things were going, tried to show some support, and she acted like I was telling her I eat my belly button lint every night before I go to bed. Maybe you would find it easier to feel unconditional love if you let people give you some.

Quick aside - I've heard several times in the last few months that someone "wouldn't make me happy". This confuses me, as I'm pretty positive I know what I feel and when I'm happy or not. I'm tempted to believe that what is meant is "I don't think I'll be happy with you".

the times, they are a changin'

2010-09-01T15:55:00.001-07:00

It's been a while since I sat down to write, mostly because I've been without an internet capable computer for about as long as I've been home from California. I'm back in school for my (gasp) last semester of my undergrad and I'm very very excited to be at the end of this little trip. Granted, I'm getting a degree that is essentially worthless, but still, it's a degree that will allow me to go into a grad program, which is okay with me. The big thought in my life at the moment is with what should happen immediately after the degree is in my hot little hands. Where do I go? What do I do with my life?

Here is what my immediate options are. First, and the one requiring the least effort on my part, is staying in Utah. I have a contract that expires in April, so I have that open to me until at least April. This option to me seems to be both good and bad. It seems good because it means I can work a little longer, save up a little bit of money, stay around friends, and basically put off starting my life over. It seems bad because it's Utah. Now, this stay-in-Utah option is only good until April. I will not be here after April, this much is certain. So where to next?

Having gone to CA for a bit, I was shocked and amazed at how at home I felt there. It just felt like an old pair of shoes, the contours fitting into my feet so well it was like they were made just for me. Seeing Jihad and Kate and Josh and Nat was just wonderful. I even made a new friend! Only in California can you go to a wedding reception and have a half hour conversation with the Groom's parents about how they are living in their dream home in their dream location. I say only in CA because I had never met these people before, and yet they opened their hearts up to me like we had known each other for years. What a great feeling, to be in a place with people who understand one another and are so willing to get to know you, even when they are at their own son's wedding!

Another option is moving out to NYC with my brother and his wife and their beautiful little boy. They live in Northern Manhattan in a great little apartment next to a great park. This would be a great option because it's New York with family! I miss my brother and his wife a lot more than I'll ever admit (oops) and I would love so much to be able to spend time with them. As for grad schools, NYC has quite a few that would allow me to work in the field I want to in a way that is effective and on my own terms. There's the constant activity list of shows, shows, and more shows, coupled with the unique experience of living in one of the most famous cities in the world. From what I understand, the LDS single's scene there is fairly big and everyone is incredibly friendly.

Yet another option is Boston, a city that I have been to once and dreamed of ever since. I went there when I was 13 and felt like it was a place I would want to live ever since. Something about it just hooked me. The schools there are plentiful and good, the LDS singles scene there is apparently amazing as well, and it's freaking Boston. Of the options I've listed, this is the one city I have the least experience with and the least first hand knowledge of. Even my CA choice of Costa Mesa is more familiar to me than Boston, and I was only there for 3 days! All I know is that 13 years ago I went to Boston for 1.5 days and have harbored a longing for it ever since.

So tell me, world, what do I do with my life?! I can't for the life of me figure it out and it's starting to weigh on my mind quite a bit. I'm in a place where I want to keep progressing in my life, whatever that means. I want to continue my education, I want to have good friends wherever I am (Utah has the lead in that field), and I want to feel like I'm working towards something great. I want to be where I can accomplish the most. Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope.

So take me home, take me back to where I belong

2010-08-07T00:57:00.001-07:00

You ever feel like you're at the end of an era of your life? I feel like I'm about there right now. It's hard to explain, and the only other time I've felt it was at the end of my mission. I remember there was a moment about 2 weeks before I went home that something in my brain clicked and I realized that I had accomplished whatever it was that I was out there to do and I just needed to finish. It was a good feeling, but a little strange because it marked the end, the successful completion of something I wasn't entirely sure I would be able to do. I think it was the first time I ever really completed something and completed it well (despite what rumors apparently were circulating about me and my oh-so-terrible ways [Elder McCarrey did, in fact, have a CD with non EFY or Mo-Tab songs on it, and you know, he honest to goodness felt the spirit when listening to those songs. Deal with it.]). I went home knowing that I had accomplished what I needed to. It felt great.

Before I moved out of my last apartment, I knew I was moving long before I accepted it. I fought that feeling long and hard though because I didn't want to leave my comfort zone. I loved that ward and the people in it and all that, but it was really time to move, and for more reasons than just one. I knew though that it was entirely my choice and that my life was mine to control. When I finally decided to leave, I knew it was the right choice and I haven't regretted it for one single second. But the uncertainty was definitely there until the very last moment.

I am pretty sure that I'm in a combination of those two places. My time is up, but I really don't want it to be. There are a lot of things that look really good on paper that give me reasons to stay, but they are slowly fading into the oncoming sunrise. (I say sunrise because I have felt more lost and alone in Provo than I ever have at any other point in my entire life, Dixie and Mission included). I have so many close friends and I'm scared to death of starting again, but I almost feel like I need to for the sun to turn back on. It's been so long since I've felt truly comfortable in my skin where I live and I miss that feeling, but I know my way around this darkened room. I don't need to see to know that my bed is 4 steps away, that when I swing my leg around to lay on the mattress I need to lift my leg a little higher so I don't hit my guitar. The metaphor for my life fits neatly in my head and I'm not sure if I want to keep moving around trying to find the Taylor-sized cutout that exists somewhere out there. This city that has been so much to me but never comfortable is at least bearable in its eccentricities.

Things that I fear leaving are slowly leaving me, for one reason or another. Music projects fade into the night and I am forced to abandon them in the place I long ago prepared just in case. Everson rests there now, a product of life. Letting go of that band is a hard thing for me to do in a way I doubt anyone else in the band gets. I don't know that they need to, really. I feel like I was the head of that ship. I certainly wasn't the only creative force in that band, but I was the one who forced it to keep moving. Everyone else showed up, accepting Everson as a band of convenience. I told them when practice was and asked them to chose option 1 or 2. I was the first to show up at shows, I was the one who booked them all with 3 notable exceptions. I pushed practices in the direction that forced everyone to grow, and I didn't accept anything less than the best of everyone else in terms of playing. They all delivered, of course. Every single person who was ever in that band let me push them into something better than what they were when they joined. At some point though, they got tired of pushing. I didn't stop trying to push, of course, but after a while, you can only push something no one else is pushing for so long. We all sacrificed for that band. We paid our dollars for gas, for gear, sacrificed hundreds of hours in practicing and playing shows, but I put everything I had into that band multiple times over. I feel kind of abandoned in a way, and I hope with all of my heart that my band mates that read this know me well enough to know what I'm really trying to say. Everson, out of dust and wood you were hewn, and unto dust you return, covered in our blood and dreams. May you rest comfortably in our memories.

This era for me is fast closing, and I don't like change forced on me, particularly when it comes with the realization that my goals and desires for this era were completely and totally unmet. Yet move I will because move I must. I just need to keep putting the one foot in front of the other until I know what direction I'm supposed to have been moving.

Letter'd!

2010-07-26T00:26:00.000-07:00

Dear Taylor,

I just went through some of your old posts at random. In hindsight, it's a little surprising you were so personal in your posts. Is it any surprise that people have reacted to it in ways you didn't expect? Real emotion shouldn't be put in such a public place, right? Right?

Wrong. Taylor, as the you of the future, I can honestly say that your writings of the last few years haven't always been sensible or accurate, but dang it you meant them. The words used to describe a moment in your life don't make up the whole of your life, and thank goodness, too. Half of the stuff from the past doesn't really resonate with me anymore. It doesn't feel like something I would write now, and I'm positive that in a time to come I will stumble on this little letter and think of the me writing it and say something to the effect of "dude, I remember when I was you, emphasis on the past tense". That's okay. You of the past, I'm letting you know that you did nothing wrong in saying how you felt, and I am doing nothing wrong still in saying how I feel. Emotions are the great glue of the universe. Without them, no relationship would ever mean anything to anyone. In fact, no relationship would ever exist. Our emotions define us and how we interact with other people. Don't be ashamed to have felt, Taylor of the past. Your anger and frustration at some of the events in your life *coughcoughWOMENSUCKcough* have been felt by others about you, and you know, that's okay too. There are some people out there who don't like you or me. People who take offense to emotional outbursts directed at other people. Here's the thing - it really doesn't matter what I think about anyone else and it really really doesn't matter what they think about you or me. I hereby absolve you of any guilt you may feel for things you have said, and I do so with the understanding that the world continues to spin in its ever-so-lovely fashion. Tomorrow morning, someone will forget they ever knew you, and you will forget you ever knew them. A year down the road, someone will say a name to me and I will laugh at the situation. Five years down the road, I might still want to avoid certain people and topics. None of these make you or me a bad person. They make us imperfect. Please note the difference.

Taylor, thank you for working on your goals and making it possible for me to work on mine. Even Taylor of 3 months ago doesn't exist anymore. His anger is dying and room is being made for positive things. I know this because I'm the one doing it. Because of you. Way to be. I'll keep up what you started, namely saying what I really feel as best I can. I'll continue to change for the best to the best of my ability. I hope that the me typing this dies and makes room for a better me quickly, and I hope that continual growth continues. Continually.

I knew your heart, my friend. It was passionate and powerful. I wish you could see my heart because it's so much better. I look forward to seeing the one I have in a year, and so on and so forth. I love you, Taylor of the past, and that's okay.

Love,
Taylor of the now

PS - a window well? really? smooth...

I like pleasure spiked with pain

2010-07-26T00:14:00.000-07:00

"The Atonement removes all of the negative, but it doesn't fill us back up with the good. That's our job."

Chloe, you're a genius.

Discuss.

2010-07-06T00:06:00.000-07:00

It's a little late and I can't sleep.

I've reached a radical idea in my late night ponderings. I don't have to feel guilty if I feel an emotion. Imagine that.

This entry is dumb, I know this.

Things as I should have seen them

2010-06-29T22:34:00.001-07:00

Tonight while talking with a friend about all kinds of stuff, I had a very sudden realization of the importance of faces.

Face 1, I loved you while running full steam ahead and assuming the best. When you stopped loving me, I learned to look around and not ignore the signs that it won't work out. You taught me that love cannot ever be real love unless it is based on really truly seeing someone for who they are, warts and all. Thank you.

Face 2, I saw everything in you that wasn't perfect, but I made a choice to love you anyway. I think you did the same with me, but we never did it at the same time, and it's really for the best anyway. You taught me that one person can love another person with every ounce of being, but that will never ever be enough if that love is not given back in equal measure. You taught me by experiencing it from me and then letting me experience it myself. Thank you.

My shame is based on the idea of permanence in the petty and painful. Knowing this, I am better equipped to fight it.

thoughts on shame

2010-06-24T09:54:00.001-07:00

Invariably, when I put something up like this, I have someone say "I read your blog, are you okay?" This is not one of the times you need to worry. Having said that, this is about to get real, son. These are thoughts I think I deal with on a daily basis and I feel a strong need to get them out. I'm not sure why it is that I have this crazy push to be so open and honest about how I feel when I feel it, but this drive is powerful for me. I think it's because I told myself when I was a little kid that I was different. I think that these explosions of honesty are my way of saying "I hope I'm not the only one". I guess another way of putting it is "I hope you're know you're not the only one".

Today in class, my professor ended with a really quick blurb on what shame is. According to him, shame is the knowledge that you are irreparably broken. This is contrasted with guilt, which is remorse over an action, whether that action was done or left undone. He spoke passionately on what shame does to people and how we need to counteract it with its polar opposite, namely through affirmation. Affirmation is the acknowledgement of acceptance and imperfection. When he defined shame, it hit me like a shotgun, and as I lay on the floor of my mind, thoughts started to ooze out of the pellet wounds. When you're lying on the proverbial ground, covered in the blood of perceived failures past, you aren't thinking clearly, and it was in this state that faces started to cloud my vision. With those faces came situations.

I saw face 1 and felt shame that it had fallen apart. We were so in love with each other and were completely dedicated to each other, and then one day it was completely gone. There is a shame that comes from knowing that you have someone who loves you completely and then suddenly they don't love you anymore. The only possible explanation is that I am broken and that is what she saw, so she left.

I saw face 2 and felt shame that it had fallen apart. There was a point when she was completely committed to us and I completely rejected it. There was a point when I was completely committed and she completely rejected it. There was a period of about one and a half weeks when we were both completely committed and it was completely amazing. There comes a point though, when you realize that you can't keep staring at each other from across the street and you walk away. Walking away doesn't mean you don't love that person, and it doesn't mean it's your first choice, but it does mean that you can't force closeness when there's obviously so much concrete between you two. I feel guilt over that. I think we both could have done more but chose not to. The shame came when I saw how quickly I was completely replaced. To go from wishing we could just meet halfway to left in the dust is a hard pill to swallow. The only possible reason I could hold onto with any certainty is that I am broken and she finally saw it.

I saw face 3 and a conversation that we had two weeks ago. I told her that I feel like I'm easily replaceable, a feeling I've had for some time, and that it's hard to want to believe differently but see proof that I am, in fact, easy to replace. She got mad at me and walked away. While the irony of that moment wasn't lost on me, it did affect me pretty strongly. Without intending to, she landed a well placed elbow on a very tender part of me, and it hurt. My immediate reaction was and is to close off. I don't want to give anyone else any more reason to walk away from me, so if I can control when I walk away, I can at least say it was my choice when it's gone. I hate to admit it, but I get attached easily. I don't show it well and I don't express it well, but it's true. I'm getting better at staying and experiencing everything in all of my relationships, but it's tough for me to admit that I care for people and give them that power over me. The shame for that one comes because I really decided I needed to open up part of myself to someone, and when I did it caused anger and frustration, punctuated by being left on my own on a stairwell.

I saw face 4 and a whole life spent trying to prove worth. I recognized it as my own. I saw myself as a kid when I would try and be a jerk because at least it gave me control. I saw myself selfishly abusing friendships and people I really cared about just because it meant that they didn't have control over me. These days I don't abuse friendships, but I'm still falling short in my friending and helping-people-know-I-care abilities. I feel shame because I am very obviously and very irreparably flawed and I don't know how to fix it. In the meantime, with such obvious flaws, why would anyone want to stick around?

All of this happened in the space of maybe 5 seconds in that classroom. The shotgun blast just grazed me, but somehow it grazed all the right places, dagnabit. My drive home was done in silence, which anyone who has driven with me knows is strange. I always have to have some music going. I started wondering where the blame was to be placed in each of these situations, and in all of them I can't help but think the blame falls on me. I know the other faces I saw weren't perfect, but they were good enough for me and I loved their imperfections because it made them unique. The hope is to someday find someone who has imperfections that I love and who loves my imperfections. It seems to me to be an impossibly tall order.

The thoughts in my head started shifting from why do I feel shame to what do I do about it? Here comes the affirmation.

I am so flawed that I can hardly believe it. I wouldn't be able to live with me if I didn't have to. I'm good at being friends, but anything beyond "friend" in any way and I suck at it. I worry that I complain too much (hello, blog), that I'm not attractive enough, that I'm too selfish, and that I am the combined total of what imperfection can become if you let it. However, I also know that, when push comes to shove, I am a good man. I am very lucky to be able to love other people so easily. My life is enriched because of the cast of other imperfect people in my story and I am grateful for everyone of them (though I do wish sometimes that some of them would be a little more aware of how much what they do can hurt me sometimes). I really am trying the best that I can to make something worthwhile out of the pile of whatever it is that constitutes my being. I can be pretty pessimistic, but underneath whatever negative emotions exist I have a little voice that is screaming as loud as it can that there is hope, there is always hope. That voice has carried me through some very dark times and I know it will continue to do so.

I am Taylor. I can really suck sometimes, but I'm still trying my best. There's nothing there to be ashamed of.

An open letter to my future wife

2010-06-22T22:22:00.002-07:00

My love,

There is so much that I want to say to you right now but I don't know how.

My name is Taylor. You don't know this yet, but you mean the world to me. I often find myself wondering where you are and what you're doing right now, if you're thinking of me or if you're thinking about some loser that doesn't get you in the end. I am positive that you are beautiful and I can't wait to tell you to your face. And to your lips. :-)

Five yeas ago, I thought I knew where you were, and so I acted accordingly. I moved to Provo thinking that you were here just waiting for me to snatch you up and take you away to happily ever after land, but I was wrong. My intention in moving to Provo was to marry you, but now I know that I came here to become the man you need me to be. These five years have been tough and trying times indeed, but they've shaped me and made me grow. You probably wouldn't have liked me if you had met when when I first got here, so it's undoubtedly for the best. But sweety, I need you now. Every night when I go to bed, I send out a little brainwave to you telling you that I love you and that I'm on my way to finding you. I need your help now though. In 6 months I will be a wanderer in this world with my choice of where to be. I want to be where you are. I need you to tell me where to go so that I can be with you. I yearn for you, I ache for you, and I wanted you to know how much I already care, even though I know you aren't going to read this for reals. So maybe this is a letter to your spirit, a request for confirmation. Please tell me where you are and I will cross heaven and earth to be with you. I will. And sweety, once I have you, I'm not letting go. I will devote every ounce of my being to you, to your comfort, to you having a happy life. Years from now, when we're old and grey, and I tell you about this letter, we'll both laugh. Probably. Hopefully. I can't wait.

I miss you (no doubt we were best friends before we came to this life), I love you, I keep you in my prayers and I can't wait to finally meet you in person.

With all of my love,
Taylor

Ladies and gentlemen, a moment of silence

2010-06-17T22:50:00.000-07:00

Really, Celtics, that was amazingly good. Like, all joking aside, you are one AMAZING ball team. I cannot believe you guys did what you did, namely striking an unholy fear into every heart in LA because for one moment, we really thought you had us on our home court. Alas, you tripped at the finish line, and the reigning world champs took what was theirs. A moment of silence for you all.

Shaq, you are a funny man. Undoubtedly, you were the best at what you did back in the day. But then you started getting soft, and it's funny that you started running your mouth then, after it was over. Remember that time you said Kobe couldn't do it without you, and now he has more rings than you? Yeah, funny thing is, so does he. A moment of silence for your ego.

Jazz fans... well... I can't imagine the pain you are feeling right now. Swept in the finals by an evil team just to watch them come back against all odds and win a title! That's really gotta sting. But I still have no respect for your team. All you Jazz fans, you remember that you have no right to hate until this time next year, and then only if your team actually accomplishes something. A moment of silence for all of your misplaced anger and frustration.

To everyone who has ever ever ever given me a hard time for liking a team that I grew up watching, a team that my father taught me to love, and told me that I was wrong for doing it, I give you a moment of silence now. Because next time I see you, you can bet your high horse I won't be silent.

Lakers for life.

One AM, 165 days after Christmas...

2010-06-07T23:24:00.001-07:00

I hate it when I start to write and then it doesn't feel right so I erase it fifty times in an effort to figure out what shades are in my head. I'm going to just close my eyes and push through and see what comes out.

Facebook, you and I are fast becoming non-friends. Too much of you is tied up in too much of what I'm trying to forget. Every little reminder is one that I don't want or need. I feel childish even admitting this. In the last few days I've come to realize that I have the ability to feel very deeply. I mean, I've known this for a while, but when I feel deeply for something I don't want to feel for, it's like I start to hate myself. After everything, why oh why can I not stop caring? What is it that makes these emotions so blasted strong? It doesn't make sense, and because it doesn't I hate it on principle alone. It makes me feel weak knowing that I don't have complete control over everything in my head. I had a talk with someone yesterday and they called their imperfections cancerous. I didn't want to admit it, but I can really relate to that. I feel like my inability to feel anything emotional without it being powerful and consuming makes it easy to hate myself. Now, to be clear, I don't hate myself, but I do get frustrated at myself. Why can't I just be normal and not care, like everyone else on this planet seems to be able to? Facebook, you like to stir up that part of me that I can't control and that leads me to hate myself. I hate myself when I feel this because what I feel is anger and hurt and I hate feeling like that. I have plenty of directions to throw my anger rocks, but in the end it's to no avail. Everything they hit somehow hurts me more instead, so I've learned to just take the pain, let it do its work, and then keep walking. But damn you, Facebook. Really.

There are a few people that I want to thank for being particularly awesome. Rayla, thank you for everything. I read some of your notes to me tonight that I somehow missed. You are an angel and a half, and don't you dare ever forget it. Janna, I have no idea who you are, but I want to thank you. I'm having a hard time putting into words why without sounding pretentious, but here goes anyway. I think you get why I write what I do, specifically because it's how I deal with the human condition in myself. Thank you for not judging me. Word on the street is that it can be pretty easy. And Pete, thanks for explaining to me that things have been rough lately. I feel ya, bro. For the reals.

To the myriad people who have been my base and support through all of this, everyone who has been nice to me, said nice things, distracted me, loved me, I want you to know that you are noticed and loved and appreciated. Someday, I will be a rich, famous, sexy rock star, and you're all getting new cars. I'm just saying.

In other news, Everson is back. And holy crap, is it back with a vengeance. Last practice, we clicked. It all just clicked. Suddenly harmonies are popping into songs that are 4 years old and I love it. I can't wait to play shows again and show off the masterpiece that is my band. I love it, I have faith and hope in it, and even if we never play to more than however big our biggest show was, this band is a success.

blablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablab

I'm rambling now, which means it's probably time to stop. I feel better. I think it worked.

Oh, Provo

2010-05-28T23:45:00.000-07:00

I went for a lovely little walk tonight around this fair little city of ours. The moon was in the perfect spot, just behind the broken remains of some clouds. I was high enough up on the hill side to see down and witness this city that has claimed me as one of its own for the last 5 years. Half a decade I've been in this city, living and trying to learn and all that. I remembered a lot of faces and experiences, people who I've loved and who have loved me. It seems like most of them have moved on, and with this coming December, I see the light at the end of my tunnel as well. This city was not my first choice, nor do I intend to stay much past graduation. But I can't deny the fact that Provo is my city. I own it and it owns me.

Enough of the negative

2010-05-21T23:29:00.001-07:00

The following is a list of reasons why my life is really really really good right now.

1. I have a job. Not only do I have a job, but I have a job that pays me really really well and that gives me full medical and dental coverage. That is awesome for several reasons, not the least of which is that I haven't been to a dentist since about October 2002 and a physician for a check up since January 2005. This is just sooooo great I can hardly believe it. I have been richly blessed with a great job.

2. I'm in 2 bands. One of them is the love of my life and one of them is my filthy little mistress. I love them both with all of my heart, I really truly do. In the one, Everson, we've been through some tough times. We've had a rotating bass player and no real lead singer for about 2 years now. The bass player situation has been fixed as my little brother has stepped up. And boy has he stepped up! He's playing like he's been a bass player for years. It swells my little heart with joy and pride. As for the singer situation, I found out that Jon is coming back, which super excites me, because this means that me and Sean can focus on the guitaring and really start getting fun. That is awesome beyond words. We will have a really good singer again and we can have more freedom on stage. Freaking. Bam.

In band 2, The Indecision, I started out as a guitar player, then switched to bass, and then back to guitar when we went acoustic for a bit. Tonight, I was informed by the singer that he recently purchased a SICK amp and that he wants to start getting back into the electric scene again. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE his songs acoustic. I just happen to love rocking out to his songs too. Now we have options. I am a proud member of two of the best, rockin' bands I've ever heard. Be jealous.

3. I have the best friends in the world. Through all of the thick and thin of the last few months, through the lines that were drawn and the crap that everyone involved went through, I have found that my friends love me far far far more than I deserve and I will forever sing praises to their names for everything, from listening to me crying, letting me just come over, listening to me yell and be angry, giving me comforting words, everything I could have ever hoped for in a single friend, I have received from numerous people who I love with all of my heart.

A side note to this is that I'm making lots of new friends too. In the last few weeks I've met a lot of people, all of them really great, and I feel lucky to have been so blessed with so many good people. It blows my mind how lucky I am.

4. I moved into a really great house. The ceilings are high, it's clean, it doesn't feel like a serial rapist ate his victims there, and on and on. It's in a great part of town, it's far enough away that I can start over but close enough to where I was that I can still see and visit people I love. My roommates are great, and I feel like I've made a good friend in the guy who just moved in. Couple this with the amazing roommates I had last year and I feel like I couldn't ask for a better group of people to have lived with over the last year of my life.

5. In 7 months from today, I will be a college graduate. Holy. Crap. I didn't even think I could beat high school, let alone college, and here I am with a B+ average and aspirations to get a PhD! And here's the crazy thing - I can do it! I feel, for the first time in my life, like I'm smart enough and capable of doing the work! It's a new feeling for me and I am grateful for it.

6. In the last 4 months, I have learned for a certainty that the God of the Universe is the God of Taylor, and this because that's how He wants it. He's there, He's real, He loves me, and He loves you too. This is a true story and I know it. And I love it.

Life is good my friends! It really is. I hope that life is good for you too. :-D

I admit it

2010-05-13T23:26:00.001-07:00

I'm a despicable person who isn't worth the benefit of the doubt. You caught me.

Recently

2010-05-11T22:41:00.000-07:00

Something strange has happened in the last few weeks. People have started to violently hate me. I know this because they tell me on the internet. At first, I thought it made sense. A friend of my ex took issue with some of my venting, and I can understand that. I don't hold any ill will, but I was a little shocked that they went out of their way to tell me that I'm a total douche. Whatever. Tonight however, Pete from Russia told me I'm "pathetic" because I "incite contention". How are these people finding me? Why do they care what some random dude they've never met thinks? How does me being happy with the results of 4 basketball games warrant throwing the f-bomb my way? And why am I still smiling? Probably because it just doesn't matter. :-)

Pete, mnje vsjo ravno, 4to ti obo mne dumajewj. Ja ninavi*u Jazz, ljublju Lakers. Basketbol - prosto igra. Ni4ego bolwee, ni4ego menwee. Ne zabudj diwatj. Vsjo budjet xorowo, ja eto znaju, znaju.

Basketball is a beautiful thing

2010-05-10T22:56:00.001-07:00

Jihad just made a very interesting point: for the rest of my undergrad career, no Jazz fan will have anything to make fun of me for. Thank you Lakers, for sweeping my most hated team, and for doing it in the meanest way possible: by keeping it close every time. Well, not so much this last time. It was pretty much over when the Jazz gave up. As far as I'm concerned, this season is a success. The Jazz have lost to the Lakers in the playoffs.

Clarification

2010-05-07T11:58:00.000-07:00

About that last post there, I feel like I should clarify something. I don't want to stay away from anyone really. If anything, I want to hang out with everyone more. If they are down to hang out, of course. Really, it was more that I was holding onto my old ward as an excuse not to go out of my way to make new friends. This is a mistake. I should be going out of my way to meet new people.

The other thing was that I really just didn't feel comfortable there last night and that was entirely because of where I was. Elder Holland said in the last conference that "proximity can be fatal". Truth. So yeah, just to clarify, I love my friends from the old place. I really do. I just can't make them responsible for being my only friends. I moved to make a new start, and I can't make a new start if I don't start over anew. Ya dig?

Interesting

2010-05-06T20:57:00.001-07:00

Tonight I went to my old ward stomping grounds for a little shin dig. I was excited to go and looked forward to it all day. When I got there, something felt off. I can't quite explain it, but it was like I was trying to resurrect something through sheer will power. The room was full of people I know and love, and yet I felt like a fish out of water. My attempt at new life in the dead was a failure, and that is how it should be. I think it's time to make new friends. Not at the expense of my old ones of course. There were people in that room that I love dearly. But they can't carry me, nor should they have to. I think it's best if I don't go back for a while. I'm not afraid of anything or running into anyone because we're all adults and we can be civil. Usually. I just don't think it's good for me.

T-minus 8 months and counting.

This one's for you, Jaime

2010-05-02T11:44:00.000-07:00

I thought you were someone else, so I took the last post down and then wrote a letter to the person I thought you were. Here's the why. And really, I'm guessing this means a lot to you since you've written me twice about this, but please just let it die.

Jaime,

I'm sorry if I offended you or anyone else. I wrote that in anger and then I thought I deleted it. Apparently I didn't. It was childish and wrong of me to vent in so public a place.

I moved out so that this would die and no one would be hurt anymore. When she deleted me on facebook she didn't delete any of my family, so I got concerned calls today from my sister asking if I was okay. That's how I found out. It was a bit of a gut blow. When I have strong emotions, I write on my blog or I play guitar. Unfortunately, I hurt my hand today so the guitar was out of the question.

I've been really hurt by the way I've perceived her handling everything. She's done nothing wrong and I know this. But she's done stuff that hurt my feelings. I feel like I've done everything I can to leave her alone and let her live her life, but it keeps coming back to me and I hate it. I just want it over with.

I understand that you're being protective of her, and I don't hold that against you. But please understand that for whatever reason, this situation hurts me. Neither one of us deserves this, and soon enough I will be a bad memory fading into the shadows of your minds. In the meantime, please forgive me for acting in my emotions instead of calming down before reacting. Hopefully for everyone, this will be the last thing anyone hears about this ridiculous drama.

~taylor

Honesty and openness

2010-05-01T23:56:00.001-07:00

In the last week, there have been 2 posts I wrote and then erased because I was afraid of hurting someone's feelings. I'm wondering if I should do that or not. In the past I have erased blog posts, but only because I didn't feel like they were true after I wrote them. One in particular that I wrote was erased because I did it to be mean and I said some really mean things that I didn't mean. The most recent ones that I wrote, I don't think I didn't mean them. In fact, I think I really meant them. So I've come to this conclusion. If you are reading this for whatever strange reason, then you are reading a snapshot of my brain. I don't owe you an apology for feeling how I feel and I certainly don't owe anyone any censorship. This page exists so that I have somewhere I can write out my thoughts and find peace with myself. I try hard to always be a good person in everything I do, but I've recently found out that there's only so far I can be pushed before my emotions finally get the better of me. So to whoever you are that wrote that comment on my last blog that was erased telling me to be a man, I say this: a man doesn't hide from his feelings, nor does he hide them so that others can feel good about themselves. Not the important ones, anyway.

Winter '10

2010-04-28T14:12:00.000-07:00

Holy hell, batman! What a semester! I don't even know where to begin!

Kana, you broke me down this semester and I kept coming back for more. That was my mistake. You said you wanted to stay friends, and I said it too. However, you haven't acted like it. You've been pretty freaking thoughtless in the way you've handled things. Because of you, I have learned a lot though, and for that I am grateful. I never want to feel like this again though. So long, farewell, have a good life. Goodbye. Also, thanks for convincing me to grow my beard back. I am actually really grateful for that.

I took 18 credits this semester, 19 if you count institute. I'll count it because there was a final in it. 7 classes. I can't believe I pulled it off, but I think I did! Not only that, but I think I did it with good grades! This is even more impressive considering the previous paragraph. Never again will I do that to myself, but I can say I did it once, and I survived.

I have been in 2 bands this semester, both of which have performed. I even sang a concert in March that my best friend was able to be there for. Two nights a week this semester were dedicated to the beauty and power of music and I loved every second of it, even when I didn't. :-)

I was the assistant executive secretary in my ward. This basically meant that I spent about 15 hours a week on campus doing church work and church work alone. I was lucky because it gave me a chance to work with some amazing people. I learned a lot about church organization and management styles. It was great.

Semester, you have sucked. Hard. But you have been pretty freaking cool at parts too. Thanks for everything, but you can leave now. Please don't come back.

Normally

2010-04-22T23:35:00.000-07:00

I would write here what I'm feeling. Instead, I'm going to get my guitar out and write there what I'm feeling. Should be interesting.

What's that?

2010-04-20T09:34:00.000-07:00

You say you're almost over, insane semester of evil that has sucked? You say you're going to try and run me into the ground one last time during finals? You know what I say? Bring it. After I'm finished smashing your face into the ground, I'm going to leave you in a ditch. That'll learn you to try and bring me down.

Easy

2010-04-07T17:00:00.000-07:00

I don't know what I want to say but I know I've typed about 5 things and erased them.

I have a hard time imagining something better for myself. It doesn't matter where I am or how good or difficult my life is, the present seems to be the best I can do at any given point in time. I guess I should take comfort that I'm doing my best, but there isn't much comfort when your best isn't what you wanted in the first place. I think this is why I have a hard time letting go of things that had any good in them. I always feel like I've just given up the best I could do and I'm not a fan.

I'm moving out of my ward at the end of the semester. I'm giving up the best I've got in my hand because of a girl. I could probably stick around and wait it out, but I just can't feel like this anymore. I can't keep being afraid to drive north on my street for fear of seeing her with her new boyfriend again. But I'm so sad because I feel like my house and ward are comfortable. I like the people in it, I like my house, even with its ridiculous strangeness. Giving up what you want for what you need really sucks, especially without knowing where you're heading in the interim. But like Nephi, I will go forth, not knowing beforehand the things which I should do.

Lately, I've been feeling like I'm flying solo. It's a scary thing. I haven't had any major spiritual confirmations one way or another about the choices I've been making in my life. It really really freaks me out. I don't feel like I've been abandoned, but I do feel alone.

It is easy to feel scared. But I will overcome.

2 slugs and a hand grenade

2010-03-28T20:44:00.000-07:00

Two weeks ago, I made a bold move. I decided that I was going to love. I opened up everything I had and laid it out. I did that because I thought it was a good idea. I was ready to pounce, ready to move and act on my gut finally. I was optimistic without being hopeful. I finally knew what I wanted. I laid it all out on a pretty little blanket. When she came over, I gave her everything I had, all the everything in my heart. She looked like she was tempted, but in the end she stood up and walked away. She kissed me on the cheek twice before she walked out. It was like taking two slugs to the chest.

13 days ago I was in a class trying not to cry. Again. While I'm grateful she didn't crush what I offered, I don't think she got why it hurt anyway.

11 days ago, I was sitting in the Salt Lake Temple begging to be free of this, to know what to do. I heard faint whisperings of hope, but my heart was screaming bloody murder and choked everything else out.

One week ago, my heart had quieted to a whimper. The echoes of the screams were far down the hall of my mind. The pain had taken its toll though. I had hardly eaten anything during the previous week. I wasn't sleeping well and I felt so alone I could hardly move. But at least the pain was going away. At church, she ran to me out of nowhere and hugged me. She then ran away just as quickly. I looked at my brother who happened to be standing right there and accepted the invitation to receive a blessing he had offered me moments prior. I got my blessing and didn't feel a lot better but I didn't feel a lot worse either. I didn't have my understanding that I was so desperate for. I decided that it was just something I was going to have to do myself. That night I saw her again. She was talking to me more, being friendly. The two slugs felt better. I felt better. As I was getting ready to walk out, she gave me two notes. One was a paper cut and the other a hand grenade. She asked if I would look at her. I couldn't. I gave her a note made out of the softest flowers I had left on my broken body and walked out. I cried and yelled and cried. I was broken. Completely broken and worthless. I don't think she got why it hurt so bad.

6 days ago I was sitting in the same class, fighting the same tears.

4 days ago my best friend got into town. I feel bad for him because I wasn't really able to show him much of a good time. I tried to keep myself distracted. It didn't work too well.

3 days ago, I saw her again. Seeing her face brought every bit of pain back. She still didn't get it. She asked if she could hug me before she left. I said no. She still didn't get it.

Last night I was sitting next to a camp fire and my friend was on the phone with his wife. She thought she had heard a noise in the house and was afraid. I silently wished my phone would ring and that I could talk to someone about how it was going to be okay and that the noise they heard was probably nothing. My brain echoed the words "I love you" that came from his mouth and I stared into the fire. I don't know what it felt like.

Tonight I relived all of this just now.

Tomorrow I will sit in the same class.

Realization

2010-03-24T01:55:00.001-07:00

Heartbreak is fear. Nothing more, nothing less.

No More Tears

2010-03-22T09:01:00.000-07:00

Not for you, anyway.

Lame

2010-03-11T05:20:00.000-08:00

Apparently, if you fall asleep with a bleeding heart, it'll scab over in the night and make it hurt everytime you breath. Lame.

This hurt though, it's got to be worth it. I spent so much of the last few years with my heart inside of a little box and I was so afraid to take it out that it started to atrophy and die. I think I would rather have this hurt heart out in the open where it can be hurt again than to have it put back in that box and locked away for another few years. My heart will heal and I will be fine, no doubt. It certainly will have a nifty new scar (also lame), but if that's the way it needs to be, then that's the way it will be.

Another bit of ouch

2010-03-10T14:38:00.000-08:00

I have been told that the thing that makes God who He is is His infinite vulnerability. I think I believe this. If our goal in life is to be like God, then we need to be vulnerable to a degree that is often uncomfortable. The problem with this is that it hurts so bad sometimes. I recently had my feelings hurt. Leaving myself vulnerable is not something I've ever been good at or even enjoyed, but I'm letting it be known that I will not close myself off.

God doesn't have it easy.

stupidpoopfaceblarghanxiety

2010-03-06T13:46:00.001-08:00

In theory, I'm supposed to be reading a book on the theory and practice of group psychotherapy, but I can't seem to focus on anything right now. My brain will not shut up and I don't know how to force it into compliace. I figure this might be one of those moments when I need to just vomit it all out and hope that my brain doesn't explode. Most of my mental turmoil comes from my recent break up. It's a very frustrating experience to be in love with someone, but when you're with them to think that it simply won't work out, and then when you're not with them to wish you were with them all the time. Is that normal? I had faith at the time that it was the right thing to do, but as always my faith is weak and I can't seem to remember why I thought this was a good idea in the first place. It brings up a lot of scary thoughts in my head. They include but are not limited to:

1) I am scared to death that I will be alone forever. "But Taylor, you were just in a relationship and this completely negates the idea that you will be alone forever, since you just spent basically six months NOT alone!" Good point, candid, outside observer, but let me put it to you another way - When you are alone because no one comes around, that is a horrible feeling. When you are alone because people come around and you push them away, that is a horrible feeling. When you think that no one comes around except for once in a great while, and then you push them away, that is the worst feeling of all. Will there ever come a time when I'll feel like a relationship is right? And really, what happened this time? Ok, besides everything I already talked to her about (that stays between us). But does it really matter? It apparently did at the time, but it doesn't seem to matter too much right now.

2) What if I'm too old? I know there are a lot of people who are older than me and are alone, but I'm not them so that doesn't really affect me. Not only that, but what about the people who are older than me who are alone? Why should they be alone too? It seems like very backwards logic that it's okay for people to feel like this ever. The reason this is scary to me is because I look at everyone around me who is married and I can't help but compare my age to their age when they got married. I'm certainly one of the oldest of my friends who isn't married, LDS or not. Ever since I've been a little kid, I've been very aware of the limited time we each have on this earth to live and love, and I've always been deathly afraid that I'm going to die young. This makes me painfully aware of every milestone and goal that I have and haven't reached in my life. Ten years ago, my plan was to be married and probably have a kid or two by now. Here I am, unmarried, no kids, and not even a college graduate. I feel like I have nothing substantial to show for my time so far, and time is running out. How long until it's gone, who knows, but it certainly is still running out. I feel my clock ticking and I know that I can't wait forever on this whole "kids" issue either. I feel like everyday I spend in this state of unaccomplished goals is a day spent in vain. Now, I know I'm working towards my goals and that I've done some really cool things in my life, and even more important I know some really great people, people who are better to me than I deserve, and I am so grateful for this. It's just difficult for me not to compare myself to people who have accomplished my goals, and seemingly so easily.

3) Maybe my life is happening this way because there is something intrinsically wrong with me. Now, before you shake your head at this apparent pity party, honestly ask yourself if you have ever felt this way. Of course you have. But the universality of this problem doesn't particularly make it any easier to deal with. If I knew what I was doing wrong, I would just fix it and fix it immediately. I hate feeling like there is something wrong with me. Maybe the universality of this is that there is in fact something wrong with all of us. I mean, obviously there is because no one is perfect. Blargh. I just wish that I could find the stupid problem and fix it.

Somewhere out there, at least in theory, is the woman that will be my better half. I have to believe she is out there. Wherever this woman is, I hope she knows that I miss her and I am doing my best to find her. Once I do, I won't let her go. And she won't let me go either.

The Walking Wounded

2010-03-03T17:03:00.000-08:00

There's something better out there for us, and I know it
There's something better to out there for you, your face shows it

They say "the search is half the fun",
But I'd like it if you could wake me up when it's done

We are the walking wounded, we are.
We are the wounded.

In the search for "something better"
It's all I can do to keep out the echoes of you

If the sky has the ground and the sun the moon,
What could I possibly be counterpoint to?

An Ode to My Guitar

2010-01-21T21:49:00.000-08:00

I feel you in my hands
Your body pressed against mine
Your neck is long and waits for my hand on it

You sing with beauty and truth
You never doubt, you never question,
You just Are

On your back I have wept
I have laughed
I have rejoiced
I have found myself

Not quite sure

2010-01-14T09:31:00.001-08:00

I've started and erased this stupid thing about 3 times now. I don't know how to say what I want to say because I'm over thinking it. Maybe I should abandon any flowery language and just spit it out.

I broke up with my girlfriend recently because I didn't think a marriage between us would result in happiness for either of us. I believe it was the right thing to do, but for the first time in a long time I can't look at my ex and see anything she's done and have any negative feelings towards her, which is a real shame from a purely selfish point of view because it would make this so much easier. Making it worse is the knowledge that she loved me completely and I wasn't able to give her what she needed to know that I loved her too. It's difficult to walk away from someone who is so selfless and eager to make you happy but I just couldn't let it go on knowing that I couldn't give her what she needed in return. So yeah, we broke up. Everytime I see her, I feel a twinge of guilt knowing that I hurt her, and by twinge I mean sledge hammer against my brain. It's made more difficult for me because she has asked me several times what she can do to make it work and everytime I feel like I have to break up with her again by telling her no. There is a possibility that I'll get over myself sometime and ask for a chance to make it up to her, but I can't see it happening. She needs someone different and so do I. I really wish that she was a jerk or stuck up though. I don't want to be the only one in that boat.

One

2010-01-02T10:24:00.000-08:00

Znajew, 4uvstvuju sebja grustno. V4era rasdelilsja s pagrugoj, i ja eto ne xotel delatj. K so*elenju, delo vklu4aetsja v tom, 4to bilo pravelno sdelatj. Esli bi ne bilo pravelno. :-( Ja ne xo4u 4tobi ona 4uvstvovala grustna. Being alone is even more sucky when it's self imposed.

Don't mess with my family

2009-12-20T00:42:00.000-08:00

Today was a great day, I tell you what. I did some work with my dad and two brothers, played with my family, basically just had a fun time. My sister went on her first date tonight, a dude from the ward up here, to a girl-ask-guy dance. At about eleven tonight, in the middle of a rousing game of Jeopardy we were all playing together, I got a call from my sister saying she needed someone to come get her because the date was going so horribly. Me and my two brothers got into the suburban and drove to the school to pick her up, as well as this kid. On the way there, my older brother told us his game plan. The way we were going to do it was in total silence. I was driving, James was in the front seat, and Neibaur was in the back. He was going to sit in the back seat between my sister and her date. We would ride in silence until we got to this kid's house basically. Neibaur would be the only one who spoke to him. And thus it went. We picked them up, drove the longest slowest way in complete silence, and this kid knew he had made a mistake. When we pulled into his driveway, Neibaur finally spoke (mind you, this was after a 30 minute drive in complete silence sitting behind me and next to Neibaur). "Hey my man, what's your name?" The kid will remain anonymous, but he replied. Neibaur then basically told him that, in the future, if a girl asks him out that he really doesn't want to go out with, just say no. But if he says yes, it is his duty and obligation as a man to make sure she has the time of her life. As this kid got out of the car, Neibaur said something like "Next time you won't make this mistake again" and the kid got out, said sorry, and went inside. We drove away and laughed the whole time. We created a memory for this kid that he'll probably never forget. And I hope that he doesn't. Don't treat my sister like crap. Either my older or younger. If you do, you can rest assured her brothers will confront you about it.

Christmas Thoughts

2009-12-06T18:14:00.001-08:00

This time of year is a great time of year. I love Christmas. I love everything about it, from the excuse to bundle up to the great foods. I love that it is a wonderful excuse to see my family who mean more to me than anything else. I'm especially grateful this year because my whole family will be in the same place at the same time for the first time in 4 years. I'm grateful that my nephew will be there. I'm grateful for the memories I have of Christmas. My friend David died a little over 4 years ago, and the last time I saw him was around this time of year the year before he died. I'm so so so grateful for all of this. But the thing I am by far most grateful for is the Savior, Jesus Christ.

I know that professing a belief in Jesus Christ in this day and age is not popular. People mock. That's okay, I'm not a Christian for them. I think that if people really knew, really really knew what it feels like to know that Jesus is the Christ, the Savior of all mankind, that He truly does possess healing in his love and doctrine, then they wouldn't be so quick to laugh. I have felt a peace in my life that is too strong to be fabricated. I have felt the strength that comes from trying to live a Christ-centered life. I have felt his hand in my life and I know that He loves me. Truly he was born in Bethlehem so long ago in the most humble of circumstances, a King of kings. I spent 2 years preaching of Him, pleading nightly with the Father for the strength, wisdom, and courage to help other people find what I have found in the Savior: not a crutch, not an excuse to not have to think, but rather the ability to really move freely through this life. I know that He did die on a cross after suffering in mind and spirit for us individually. The scope of the human race is something none of us can entirely wrap our head around, and yet the Son of God did it, and in so doing wrapped his hands around us, providing a way to return to live with our Heavenly Father after this life. I feel it an honor and a privilege to celebrate his birth every year. True, historically speaking, he wasn't born in December. True, the Christmas holiday began as a Pagan ritual. But in my heart, it's an opportunity to sing praises that Jesus was born. I say with boldness and surety that Jesus lives, that He is the Christ, the Son of God sent to provide salvation for us if we choose to take it. I have no doubt of this because I have had experiences too sacred to recount on a blog that affirm to me the reality of the beautiful message of the holy scriptures. I feel lucky to be blessed with the ability and opportunity to have read the Bible countless times and feel the Spirit of God testify to me of the truthfulness of those words. I feel even luckier to have been able to read the Book of Mormon, to pray about it, and to feel that same wonderful, peaceful feeling come over me. I know that the message of the Book of Mormon is the same as the message of the Bible, that Jesus is the Christ. I thank God for the gift of free agency, for the gift of prayer as a medium through which I can communicate with the Creator of the universe and everything in it. And above all, I thank God for the gift of His Son, a sacrificial Lamb to atone for me so that I can return to his presence after I pass from this life.

This song is my favorite hymn of all time and by goodness it still makes me cry to this day. Merry Christmas to all who read this. May God's love be poured upon you abundantly at this beautiful time of year. I love you all!

Dec. '10, pt. 2

2009-11-15T22:56:00.000-08:00

Here's the update on that. I'm going to go ahead and try to graduate then, seeing how it goes this semester. If this semester kills me, I'll take an easier load and finish in April. Bam.

Kana is a great girlfriend and I love her. There. I said it. :-D

I'm not sure what the future holds for me, but whatever it is, I'm okay with it.

Dec. '10

2009-10-22T09:48:00.000-07:00

Here's the deal, folks. I went in and talked to my advisor yesterday and got a tentative graduation schedule, as well as the complete list of all the classes I need to take in order to graduate. There are 18 classes left for me to take. If I take 18 credits next semester, 2 in the summer, a recommended GRE course in the second half of the summer, and 18 credits the following semester, I can walk away with a Bachelors Degree in Psychology. If I do this, I won't be able to work very much, which means that student loans and I will be fast friends. This is a little scary to me. The thing that scares me is my lack of ability to work hard when I don't want to. I'm hoping that this will be just what I need, a schedule to follow and enough things to keep me busy that I won't have time to stop. I figure though that it can't be worse than I have been doing. This semester is not one of the highlights of my life, academically speaking.

Another thing that kind of freaks me out is that I don't know that I'll have time for anything but school, including work, music, or girlfriend. Without work, I am afraid I won't be able to afford life. Without music, I'm afraid my brain will melt out. Without girlfriend, I don't know. I know I can live without a girlfriend since I've done it for so long, but I don't know that I want to give up Kana just yet. Then again, she may just want to give me up.

I need more sleep. I need to graduate. I don't know if I have either in me.

Pomplamoose

2009-09-09T23:17:00.001-07:00

Check these folks out. Amazing.

it is late, tralala

2009-09-06T01:13:00.001-07:00

Ja ne panimaju kak ja, ka*di raz - tot 4elovek. Ka*di. Sevodnja ve4erom ja poznokomilsja s krasivoj devu4koj, no ja prosto ne kak ne smog bitj soboj.

I am too tired. I should be in bed. This should not be published because it makes no sense.

Ifferentday anguagelay.

Thoughts on a book, pt. 2

2009-07-24T09:24:00.000-07:00

Check this:

"All is summed up in a prayer which a young female human is said to have uttered recently: 'Oh God, make me a normal twentieth-century girl!' Thanks to our labours, this will mean increasingly, 'make me a minx, a moron, and a parasite.'"

I've had several little pieces in this book really jump out at me, but for some reason I felt like this was an important thing to think about. Screwtape is giving a toast at a graduation ceremony and is talking about the way that modern life is making less of us all because we want it to. Too true. How many people do we know who simply go with whatever is popular at the moment? How many people do we see walking around looking like fools because it's what it fashionable? I know that in Provo, this mindset of idiocy abounds. People will follow the idiot crowd all the way off the cliff of indecency if given the chance, and it's like it's what they want more than anything else! There's no reason for any of them to think for themselves because the mass cloud of smug over their heads dictates their thoughts for them. It's bothersome and makes me sick to my inside parts. To the minxes (male and female), morons and parasites, you have my pity. I can't even begin to imagine the horror that is your life of blind stupidity and blissful idiocy. You deserve it.

Thoughts on a book, pt. 1

2009-07-15T12:14:00.000-07:00

I've had a copy of "The Screwtape Letters" sitting by my bed for about 2 months, and I figure that now is as good a time as any to read it. I feel very fortunate to have the ability to read good books at work. It's been good for me. I feel like all I ever write about now are books and how they make me think. I'm not sure yet if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

I just want to copy out a chunk of one of the letters and leave it at that because it is something that is good that too many people don't know or chose to forget.

"But you now see that the Irresistible and the Indisputable are the two weapons which the very nature of His scheme forbids him to use. Merely to override a human will (as His felt presence in any but the faintest and most mitigated degree would certainly do) would be for Him useless. He cannot ravish. He can only woo. For His ignoble idea is to eat the cake and have it; the creatures are to be one with Him, but yet themselves.; merely to cancel them, or assimilate them, will not serve. He is prepared to do a little overriding at the beginning. He will set them off with communications of His presence which, though faint, seem great to them, with emotional sweetness, and easy conquest over temptation. But He never allows this state of affairs to last long. Sooner or later He withdraws, in not in fact, t least from their conscious experience, all those supports and incentives. he leaves the creature to stand up on its own legs - to carry out from the will alone the duties that have lost all relish. It is during such trough periods, much more than during the peak periods, that it is growing into the sort of creature that He wants it to be. Hence the prayers offered in this state of dryness are those which please Him best... Our cause is never more in danger than when a human, no longer desiring, but still intending, to do our Enemy's will, looks round upon a universe from which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys."

Final thoughts on a book

2009-07-15T09:28:00.000-07:00

I finished "To Kill a Mockingbird" on Monday morning and I can honestly say that I don't remember it having such an impact on me as a high school student. It was 282 pages long, but it was an incredibly easy read. I had vague memories of the two kids (what were their names?) going to the black church, though I didn't know why. I remembered the dead dog, Boo Radley saved the day somehow, and that Atticus said that killing a mockingbird is a sin because all they do is sing pretty for you (which is why my first band was named Atticus [I'm pretty sure I already said that]). This time though, there was a whole spectrum of things to see and feel.

I actually got mad at some of the characters several times in the story. A prime example of this is the Missionary Meeting that Aunt Alexandra asked Scout to join in. Those women were infuriating! Talking about how at least they weren't two faced in their dislike of black people like the Northerners. Ridiculous. I had by that point come to dislike Aunt Alexandra for the way she was always second guessing Atticus and trying to force a preconceived notion of what a woman was supposed to be like on an 8 year old girl, but the way she handled the unpleasantness was very showing that she was, in fact, a Finch. I got mad at the way Maycomb reacted to Atticus' defense of Tom Robinson. It seemed like there were a lot of people sitting in the shadows without voicing support for Atticus. It seemed wrong to me to be doing right but only in the privacy of your own mind.

Atticus is now, as he is with Neibaur, my new hero. For a fake person he seemed very tangible to me. I was impressed with the way he handled everything in his life, the way he always strived to teach his kids to behave in a truly Christian way, even if it wasn't labeled as such.

All in all, I really enjoyed this book and thought that it was important in the sense that it taught very effectively the importance of equality and the evils of silent acceptance.

Thoughts on a book, pt. 3

2009-07-13T09:30:00.000-07:00

After Tom's trial and conviction, Atticus and his kids are sitting in the living room and Jem proposes getting rid of juries because of the bad verdict. Atticus says some important things that for some reason people are still struggling with. "As you grow older, you'll see white men cheat black men everyday of your life, but let me tell you something and don't you forget it - whenever a white man does that to a black man, no matter who he is, how rich he is, or how fine a family he comes from, that white man is trash... Don't fool yourselves, it's all adding up and one of these days we'll have to pay the bill for it. I hope it's not in you children's time."

I think one of the reasons that Atticus is such a great character is because he is the embodiment of everything we wish we could be. I think we all wish that we could be strong in our beliefs, that we could stand in front of a mob and do nothing, that we could be called the worst insult a community has and take it in stride. He never seems to blow things out of proportion, and that's really the true definition of humility, seeing things only exactly as they are. What a stallion. And how sad that we still don't get what he was preaching through Harper Lee in 1960.

Thoughts on a book, pt. 2

2009-07-09T10:05:00.000-07:00

There are only really two parts from the book that I remember from the first time I read it. The first is the dog and the second is the courtroom. Well, and I guess I remember Boo from the end too, but mostly because Robert Duvall played him in the movie (it was his first role). I just got past the dog and I remember why it stuck with me. Something in the way he moves (thanks, George!) seems to be so fluid. The way the gun rises up and fires calls to mind a slow motion ballet. And then he leaves. Break the wrist, walk away, and all that goodness. Even more impressive is that his kids genuinely had no clue whatsoever that their father was the best shot in the county. In my dating life, pitiful as it may be, I try and hide my guitar playing, at least at first, because I don't want to be the guitar guy, much in the way that I'm sure Atticus doesn't want to be the gun guy. Not only does he not talk about it before, but he stops people from talking about it after. The best part about it is Jem's reasoning. "Atticus is a gentleman, just like me!" Sounds to me more like Atticus is a consummate man, or at least everything a man should be. Meek without being weak, talented without being glory hungry, patient without being spineless. I was talking to Neibaur about his post where he said that the book seems to be about courage. I think that the book might be more about the courage that we shouldn't have to have in the first place, the courage to do the right thing. I know that Atticus does some amazing things in this book, but he shouldn't have to do any of them. He shouldn't have to protect Tom, he shouldn't have to tell his daughter not to get mad when people call him a nigger-lover, but he does. And when he does, he does it so serenely. It's almost like he's just accepted his fate as an example and is going full steam ahead with it. It reminds me of a time I went for a walk in the Provo Cemetery and I saw a tombstone that said "A Gentleman and a Scholar". I can't think of a better way to be remembered, short of "good father and husband", which Atticus has pulled of nicely. I just want to throw in here as well that I am blessed beyond words to have a man like Atticus Finch to be my dad. Or maybe I should say that Jem and Scout are blessed beyond words to have a man like my dad for theirs.

Thoughts on a book, pt. 1

2009-07-08T11:55:00.000-07:00

I'm reading "To Kill A Mockingbird" now, mostly because Neibaur suggested starting a family book reading club, complete with a blog to post comments. I think I'm going to double post mine, one here, one there, just because I can. I guess. I dunno.

If you've known me since before the mission, you know that I was in a band called Atticus freshman year of college. Well, technically we were first called C.O.C. (didn't stand for anything, just an inside joke), but when we found out that Corrosion of Conformity was using C.O.C. we had to change the name. I suggested Atticus because Mr. Finch spoke of the evils of killing a mockingbird when all it wanted to do was sing pretty, which is essentially what we wanted to do. This is one of 2 books I had to read in high school that I liked and remember anything about.

The thing I wanted to comment on was how wonderfully child like everything is. It's almost as if the book was written by a 6 year old with a college degree. The wonder and magic in everything is apparent in everything that Scout describes. The part that really made me feel like a kid again was the description of Miss Maudie, when Scout says that "after her five o'clock bath she would appear on the porch and reign over the street in magisterial beauty." I remember when I was a kid I was torn between two mindsets. My naturally occuring one was to be amazed at everything and to think that everything was beautiful and magic. The outside one came (I think) mostly from my best friend at the time, Lucas. I felt like I had to be an adult, like I had to be mature and not laugh at childish things, not be amazed at simple things, even though I was amazed and they were funny. Scout seems to have ignored the "childishness" fear and gone straight to the amazing part. If Harper Lee can channel the childish and simplistic beauty of life, then so can I.

Final thoughts on a book

2009-07-08T09:42:00.000-07:00

When I started to read “Anna Karenina” I wasn’t expecting a lot. Well, maybe I was, but not what I got. Like I’ve said, I saw the ballet when I was on my mission and it was really really good. The music was fantastic and very expressive. I remember that there were parts where the music would be playing one way and literally while it was still playing half of the orchestra would start playing something with a different tempo and, while the half playing the original score would slowly fade in volume, the volume would rise to a fortissimo that shook the walls. The story was easy to understand and the dancing was expressive. I don’t know what made me decide to read the book, but I did and I am blown away. Everytime without fail that I would pick the book up to read it, I was drawn in and amazed. And I didn’t know anything at all about any characters outside of Anna and her family so a good chunk of the story was entirely new to me.

I was struck by the amazing ability Tolstoy had to write in such a way that everything made complete sense. He got inside the heads of those characters so thoroughly that there was no room to doubt. No flaws were smoothed over, nothing was made fluffier than it should have been. Every character was flawed somehow. It was like their imperfections made them perfect.(Just like real life. Who’da thunk?) One of my absolutely favorite things about the book is that the story is always told from the point of view of the person that part of the book is focusing on. I know this sounds like an obvious thing, but Tolstoy never mixes narratives. For example, there’s a part where two characters are talking, and one of them notices that when the other character is trying to avoid thinking about important stuff, their eyes narrow. Later in the book, a different character notices the same thing and interprets it as coy and flirting. And he never knows the truth of the situation!

Another great thing Tolstoy does in this book is describe some truly ugly things in a very non-sensationalistic way. Anna and Vronsky are not star crossed lovers, nor are they murderous dogs. They are simply people making mistakes. Levin is imperfect, but never more. Kitty is a woman, but nothing in her character is sensationalized to play into stereotypes. Each character has opinions and faults but nothing is presented except as fact.

The most impressive thing about this book is the way it tackles some very weighty issues. The whole book deals with the issue of faith, especially in Levin. He struggles with it and tries as hard as he can to have it, and his struggle is pure literary genius. The last 20 or 30 pages are some of the best spiritual thoughts I’ve ever read short of scripture.

I’m sure that most of you care so much about my thoughts on this book (sarcasm?) but I wasn’t expecting it to be this. I feel like my life has been enriched, like I’ve been taught important things. I feel like a better person because I read this book and I’ve never had non scriptural literature make me feel quite the same. It was strong, it was beautiful, it was the best book I’ve ever read. I might have ruined any chance of it having the same effect on you by talking it up, but I highly highly highly recommend anyone read it, even if you don’t like reading. It’s a pretty easy read, and it’s amazing. Thank you Tolstoy for writing this book.

Thoughts on a book, pt. 10

2009-07-03T18:12:00.001-07:00

Anna's last moments are disturbing. And yet familiar. The entire account of her last day of life is a culmination of horrors and sins that she invented for herself. The way Tolstoy describes her thoughts is like a whirlwind that finds compatibility with your brain and sucks it in. It all moves and screams and shouts and shudders and finds a sympathetic reverberation and makes your brain spin out of control just by looking at words. And yet you find yourself looking into the eye of this storm from a mile up, an eagle's eye into the focal point of fury and disintegration. You can see her every thought, but because you're a mile up you can see what's happening outside of the storm and realize that happy little blue birds are flying over the rainbow created by the storm in her. Everything that she does is done to teach people a lesson, to show them. Everyone is ugly and horrible to her. She despises everyone and everything, and yet they all still love her.

I think it was a stroke of genius to have Anna's story come full circle, to both begin and end with Dolly and Kitty. It was like Kitty and Levin start at the bottom and only rocket up while Anna and Vronsky start at the top and just fall face first into destruction upon destruction.

In the play, when Anna jumps under the train, a light comes from the top of the rear stage and floats, and the memory of the muzhik from her dream walks in place in front of it with steam rising. Anna looks at the light, back at the audience, and runs and slides under the light. In the movie (I watched it for a Russian class), you see a train, and you see her, and then you understand that she fell under. In the book however, every moment of it is vivid and graphic and you are with her until right after her last moment. She falls onto the tracks, timing it so she lands between wheels. As she hits the ground, the storm disappears and she suddenly realizes that she isn't where she wants to be. Tolstoy's writing here alone is worthy of immortalizing him:

"And just as the moment when the midpoint between the two wheels came even with her, she threw the red bag aside and, drawing her head down between her shoulders, fell on her hands under the carriage, and with a light movement, as if preparing to get up again at once, sank to her knees. And in that same instant she was horrified at what she was doing. 'Where am I? What am I doing? Why?' She wanted to rise, to throw herself back, but something huge and implacable pushed at her head and dragged over her. 'Lord, forgive me for everything!' she said, feeling the impossibility of any struggle. A little muzhik, muttering to himself, was working over some iron. And the candle by the light of which she had been reading that book filled with anxieties, deceptions, grief and evil, flared up brighter than ever, lit up for her all that had once been in darkness, sputtered, grew dim, and went out for ever."

I am very anxious to see how the rest of her world responds to the obliterating power of her storm.

Thoughts on a book, pt. 9

2009-06-29T11:37:00.000-07:00

“He liked it all, but he had already liked it so many times!”

Imagine that, the idea that you can fall out of love with someone because you’re in love with that same someone.

Thoughts on Michael Jackson

2009-06-25T17:32:00.001-07:00

So, he died. And the real question is, what is his real legacy going to be? There is no denying that man's genius for crafting good songs, genius songs, even. He was a master dancer who basically invented everything that pop now is and has been for the last 27 years. He was in the Jackson 5, for crap's sake! I have long made jokes about this man and everything he came to represent. Dangerous was a great album, but after that it was too much for me to handle.

HISTORY:
As a kid, Michael Jackson was the first artist I got into. In our family we have a thing where, on New Year's Eve, we leave our shoes out and the New Year's man comes and leaves us a little present in it. When I was super young, he left me a tape of Thriller. Let me promise you I wore that tape out. Michael Jackson and the Beatles are what really got me into music. Well, that and Disney's Fantasia, but I digress. I wanted to be like Michael Jackson. I wanted to sing like him, to dance like him, and to meet him. Yeah, I was one of those kids. He did a concert that was aired on HBO and my parents let me tape it and watch it. I would buy his tapes with whatever money I came across. Yeah, I had Bad and Dangerous. I got HIStory as well. How could I not? When he was interviewed by Barbara Wallace, I watched it. I owe him a lot in terms of musical awareness. Then came the allegations.

When they first came out, I defended him. My family used to give such a hard time, but I knew that there was no way he could have done it. I wish that he hadn't done it. However, I'm pretty convinced he did, especially with the passage of time. I can look back and see things I didn't before, especially since I'm studying psychology. The signs and tells on his face, his actions in public, the way he treated his children, all these things were indicative of a man who was not mentally healthy and who had probably perp'd on those kids. I don't doubt or deny his creative gifts, but at what level do we let his actions slide? After all, we're talking about kids waking up with him in the process of molesting and sexually assaulting them. This is a man who gave little kids alcohol. This is a man who dangled one of his kids over a balcony. I respect his musical career, but his death is nothing beyond the death of a man with some serious problems.

Now, to be fair, I don't think he realized what he was doing. I'm not condoning it, I'm not saying it's okay in any way shape or form. BUT. I am saying he probably was not mentally competent.

So what is his legacy going to be? Musical genius or shattered individual left alone in the spotlight? I hope his legacy is a little of both. Our society's fascination with fame is at least as responsible for Michael Jackson as he was. A boy thrust into a business that abused him. May he forever stand as a monument against the machine that is "The Biz".

Thoughts on a book, pt. 8

2009-06-18T11:16:00.000-07:00

I just read this little bit, and it struck me as the perfect explanation to how I can sometimes feel towards born-again Christians. As a practicing Christian, I openly admit that I believe in Christ, that His grace is necessary for me to overcome the effects of sin in this life. However, I don't believe that a simple confession excludes me from the ability to sin, nor do I think it justifies the sins I have committed in the past.

"Alexei Alexandrovich easily became convinced of it (the new, evangelical style of Christianity spreading in St. Petersburg at the time). Like Lydia Ivanovna and other people who shared their views, he was totally lacking in depth of imagination, in that inner capacity owing to which the notions evoked by the imagination became so real that they demand to be brought into correspondence with other notions and with reality. He did not see anything impossible or incongruous in the notion that death, which existed for unbelievers, did not exist for him, and that since he possessed the fullest faith, of the measure of which he himself was the judge, there was no sin in his soul and he already experienced full salvation here on earth.
It is true that Alexei Alexandrovich vaguely sensed the levity and erroneousness of this notion of his faith, and he knew that when, without any thought that his forgiveness was the effect of a higher power, he had given himself to his spontaneous feeling, he had experienced greater happiness than when he thought every moment, as he did now, that Christ lived in his soul and by that signing papers he was fulfilling His will; but it was necessary for him to think that way, it was so necessary for him in his humiliation to possess at least an invented loftiness from which he, despised by everyone, could despise others, that he clung to his imaginary salvation as if it were salvation indeed."

I'm not sure if this makes me a jerk or not. Thoughts?

Thoughts on a book, pt.7

2009-06-17T11:12:00.000-07:00

One of the main themes of this book is death, be it the physical death of a man at a rail station, the spiritual death of an adulteress, or the finding of spiritual life in ones own death. Death is one of those things that I think I've thought about a little more than other people, though I'm not sure why I have spent so much of my time thinking about death. I certainly don't want it or feel like it will be an answer to anything in my life.

My friend David died in a motorcycle wreck almost 4 years ago. David was one month and 4 days older than me, and he was one of my best friends. I still remember that out of body feeling I got when I found out he died. I was studying for a psychology test and I got an email sent out by his mom that he had died that day. Then I got a personal email from his mom asking me to come to the funeral. The floor dropped and I didn't, and I wish that I had. I hate that feeling of detachment that comes with unwelcome news. I remembered several times we talked about death and what was on the other side and I found myself curious what he thought of it. When I got to California, I went straight to his mom's house and met his whole family there. They showed me some pieces of his bike that they had salvaged from the wreck and told me what happened and the floor disappeared again. There's something that's a little too final about seeing the pieces of the vehicle your friend was driving when he died. Like Levin in the book, I felt like I couldn't bare it, and yet I found myself in some surprisingly removed thought processes. Everything around me became clear. I went to visit a friend and we went up to the top of a nearby mountain and had dinner, talking about all kinds of stuff. We started talking about my Grandma who had died when I was a little kid, and I wondered out loud what she was looking at. As I said this, I felt my eyes drawn to a spot about 20 feet away from me and almost heard the answer: "you". Then I almost heard her say "David's fine, I made sure."

I had a friend in high school named Andy. After I graduated, I found out that Andy had gotten a brain tumor. Andy died as a teenager and left behind his family and friends, including his twin brother Doug. I think about Andy sometimes and wonder how he felt when he looked at his death as immediate. I wonder if he felt any comfort or peace. I hope he did. I was on my mission when he died and I was sad that I couldn't go to his funeral to pay my last respects, so I wrote a letter to his family as it was all I could do. I wonder where Andy is these days.

When I was really young, I came to the conclusion that I was going to die a young man. Well, young being relative. I was thinking somewhere around 40. When you feel like you're going to die at a young age, you find yourself trying to live life well. I don't think I ever was particularly good at it though because I was so afraid of being forgotten when I died that I acted like I was forgotten already. I have no reason for ever having thought that, but that's a big part of my childhood, the fear of being forgotten and unnecessary. My imminent death scared me and kept me from trying things that I really wanted to.

The point of all of this is that I have reached some conclusions about death. I do believe in an afterlife, though I would be lying if I said that death doesn't scare me. I believe in death as an important step in existence. I've known people who have died, be they my age, younger, or older. Death isn't completely unknown to me, as I was positive it was always hovering over me as a kid. Maybe it still is. I have come to learn and accept, though, that there are few things as beautiful in this life as a timely death. When David died, he had somehow made peace with everyone and everything. It was hard, but it was his time. My grandma's death was too early for my tastes, but I know she's still around and watching out for me and my family. Andy was an inspiration because he handled his illness with a sad dignity born of necessity. I hope that I can have half his dignity as I look whatever life throws at me in the eye.

While I acknowledge and live with the effects of death, I realize that it cannot be overshadowed by life. Babies being born remind me that it's all part of a plan, and that the plan is beautiful. Every new day is wrapping paper and bows, with the people and places before you the boxes and contents around which it's wrapped. Everything in this life is necessary for happiness, including death. Truly, the plan is beautiful.

Peace in the latter-days

2009-06-15T10:34:00.000-07:00

Over Memorial day weekend, I was in Washington and heard this talk in church. It was given by a marine and deals witht he idea of peace. I liked it so much I asked for a copy so I could post it here. It's by Brandon Graham. Enjoy!

Inro

The following experience is that of Horst K. Hilbert, a German infantryman during WWII.

"Early one morning, on the 6th of January, 1942, I had to stand guard duty with a buddy, Hans Plank. We were standing beside a little shack; the straw roof covered with snow. A Russian machine gun started to shoot at us. I could see the tracers hitting the ground before my feet, and then skipping off into the sky. Other rounds hit the straw roof, and I could see the bullets making rows of holes, making the snow coming down look like sugar coming out of a bowl.
"I was very afraid and since I was forbidden to leave the post, I wanted to pray. I could feel the power of the destroyer but I could not think to utter one word; my tongue felt paralyzed. To think that the first words in my life were prayers on my mother's lap. All I was able to say was that if my mother could pray for me right now, the Lord would hear the prayer of a righteous woman. With that though, I looked to the east and felt prompted to look to the north. When I did that and turned, a bullet passed, and in passing, hit my coat at the stomach. Had I not turned, it would have struck my stomach. After that incident the shooting stopped.
"Some days later I received a letter from my mother. In the letter, she wrote that in the night of January 6th, she woke up hearing me call to her. She also heard the sound of shooting. She got up quickly, woke up my four sisters and said that they needed to pray, FAST, that I was in mortal danger and needed their prayers. The five women knelt down, and my mother pleaded with the Lord to keep His protecting hand over me. After the prayer my mother told my sisters to go back to sleep and be of good cheer. I had been in danger, but the Lord helped me."

Horst was one of only a few hundred church members in Germany during the war. His story reflects that of many who strived to live the commandments during a time of war and uneasiness. In these latter days, we all of us seek to follow this simple example. By following the commandment to pray, a mother saved her son.

Peace

We still live in a time of turmoil. There are wars between some nations, armed conflicts within others, and violent controversies in most. People are killed every day in some places, and hatred is practiced in many more. Peace is a victim everywhere.
If only we could heed the call of the Lord God of Israel, "Come unto me all ye ends of the earth." (2 Ne. 26:25) As the Book of Mormon teaches, He has created all flesh, "And the one being is as precious in his sight as the other." (Jacob 2:21) He has given salvation "free for all men" (2 Ne 26:27) and "all men are privileged the one like unto the other, and none are forbidden." (2 Ne. 26:28)
"And he inviteth [all men] to come unto him and partake of his goodness; and he denieth none that come unto him, black and white, bond and free, male and female; and he remembereth the heathen; and all are alike unto God." (2 Ne. 26:33)
The blessings of the gospel are universal, and so is the formula for peace: keep the commandments of God. War and conflict are the result of wickedness; peace is the product of righteousness.
Many take comfort from the Old Testament prophecy that nations will "beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks." (Micah 4:3) But this prophecy only applies to that time of peace which follows the time when the God of Jacob "will teach us of his ways, and we will walk in his paths." (Micah 4:2)
For now, we have wars and conflicts, and everywhere they are rooted in violations of the commandments of God.
The leaders of some nations have systematically murdered their opposition.
Persons in power in some Nations have stolen public and private property so they could live in luxury. At the same time, they have neglected the most basic needs of the hungry and homeless among their people.
Some private citizens have promoted poverty by stealing, corrupting public officials, and by oppressing the poo and defenseless.
However, democracy does not ensure peace. When a nation is governed according to the voice of its people, its actions will mirror the righteousness or wickedness of its people.
We cannot have peace among nations without achieving general righteousness among the people who comprise them. Elder John A. Widstoe said: "The only way to build a peaceful community is to build men and women who are lovers and makers of peace. Each individual, by that doctrine of Christ and His church, holds in his own hands the peace of the world. That makes me responsible for the peace of the world. The responsibility cannot be shifted to someone else. It cannot be placed upon the shoulders of Congress or Parliament, or any other organization of men with governing authority." (in Conference Report, Oct. 1943, p. 113)
If citizens do not have a basic goodness to govern their actions toward one another, we can never achieve peace in the world. One nation's greed, hatred, or desire for power over another is simply a reflection of the greeds, hatreds, and selfish desires of individuals within that nation.
Conversely, each citizen furthers the cause of world peace when he or she keeps the commandments of God and lives at peace with family and neighbors. Such citizens are living the prayer expressed in the words of a popular song, "let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me." (Sy Miller and Jill Jackson, "Let There Be Peace on Earth")
The Savior and his apostles had no program for world peace other than individual righteousness. They mounted no opposition to the rule of Rome or to the regime of its local tyrants. They preached individual righteousness and taught that the children of God should love their enemies (see Matt. 5:44) and "live peaceably with all men" (Rom. 12:18)
Recent history reminds us that people who continue to hate one another after a war will have another war, whereas the victor and vanquished who forgive one another will share peace and prosperity.
Our church members demonstrated the healing and pacifying power of love in their shipment of food and clothing to relieve the suffering of the German saints just after World War II. U.S. President Harry S. Truman was amazed when President George Albert Smith told him the supplies would not be sold. "You don't mean you are going to give it to them?" he exclaimed.
President Smith replied simply, "They are our brothers and sisters and are in distress." (Edward L. Kimball and Andrew E. Kimball, Jr., Spencer W. Kimball, Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1977, p. 222.)
A few months later, Elder Ezra Taft Benson saw a German member in tears as he ran his fingers through a container of cracked wheat and whispered, "Brother Benson, it is hard for me to believe that people who have never seen us could do so much for us." (Sheri L. Dew, Ezra Taft Benson, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1987, p. 219)
What can one person do to promote peace? The answer is simple: keep God's commandments and serve his children. A bishop who seeks to heal a troubled marriage or resolve a personal controversy is working for peace. So is a victim of abuse who is conscientiously working on the long process of forgiving the transgressor. Young men and women contribute to peace when they forgo the temporary pleasure of self-gratifying activities and involve themselves in service projects and other acts of kindness.
The most powerful workers for peace may be faithful mothers and fathers. Some of the most terrible crimes committed against humanity are the acts of person who have been scarred and twisted by the sins of others - often their own parents or others who cared for them. Parents who loving care for their own children or shelter foster children and raise them in righteousness are working for peace. So are parents who teach their children in the way King Benjamin counseled, to forgo conflicts and "to love one another, and serve one another." (Mosiah 4:15)
A personal act of kindness or reconciliation also has an impact for peace. Lincoln's biographer described such an act. A union officer applied to his commander-in-chief for permission to leave his regiment to attend the burial of his wife. Lincoln gruffly refused. Another battle was imminent, and every officer was needed. The next morning, President Lincoln reconsidered and granted the request. He went to the room of the grieving man, took his hand, and said: "My dear Colonel, I was a brute last night. I have no excuse to offer. I was weary to the last extent; but I had no right to treat a man with rudeness who offered his life for his country, much more a man who came to me in great affliction. I have had a regretful night, and come now to beg your forgiveness." (Carl Sandburg, Abraham Lincoln, The War Years, 4 vols., New York: Hartcourt, Brace, and Co., 1939, 1:514.)
Our missionaries, young men and women and older couples, are workers for world peace. So are the faithful souls who support them.
Like the church that sends them forth, our missionaries have no political agenda and no specific program for disarmament or reduction of forces. They circulate no petitions, advocate no legislation, support no candidates. They are the Lord's servants, and his program for world peace depends on righteousness, not rhetoric. His methods involve repentance and reformation, not placards and picketing.
By preaching righteousness, our missionaries seek to treat the causes of war. They preach repentance from personal corruption, greed, and oppression because only by individual reformation can we overcome corruption and oppression by groups or nations. By inviting all to repent and come unto Christ, our missionaries are working for peace in this world by changing the hearts and behavior of individual men and women.
In the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we follow the formula prescribed by the prophet-king Benjamin. He taught that those who receive a remission of their sins through the atonement of Christ are filled with the love of God and the knowledge of that which is just and true. That kind of person "will not have a mind to injure one another, but to live peaceably" with all people. (Mosiah 4:13)
That is our method, and salvation and peace for all mankind is our goal.

Examples

Nehemiah of the Old Testament is a great example of staying focused and committed to an important task. Nehemiah was an Israelite who lived in exile in Babylon and served as cupbearer to the king. One day the king asked Nehemiah why he seemed so sad. Nehemiah replied, "why should not my countenance be sad, when the city, the place of my fathers' [graves], lieth waste, and the gates thereof are consumed with fire"?
When the king heard this, his heart was softened, and he gave Nehemiah the authority to return to Jerusalem and rebuild the city. however, not everyone was happy with this plan. In fact, several rulers who lived near Jerusalem grieved exceedingly "that there was come a man to seek the welfare of the children of Israel." These men "took great indignation, and mocked the Jews."
Fearless, Nehemiah did not allow the opposition to distract him. Instead, he organized his resources and manpower and moved forward rebuilding the city, "for the people had a mind to work".
But as the walls of the city began to rise, opposition intensified. Nehemiah's enemies threatened, conspired, and ridiculed. Their threats were very real, and they grew so intimidating that Nehemiah confessed, "They all made us afraid". in spite of the danger and the ever present threat of invasion, the work progressed. It was a time of stress, for every builder "had his sword girded by his side, and so builded."
As the work continued, Nehemiah's enemies became more desperate. Four times they entreated him to leave the safety of the city and meet with them under the pretense of resolving the conflict, but Nehemiah knew that their intent was to do him harm. Each time they approached him, he responded with the same answer: "I am doing a great work, so that I cannot come down."
What a remarkable response! With that clear and unchanging purpose of heart and mind, with that great resolve, the walls of Jerusalem rose until the were rebuilt in an astonishing 52 days. Nehemiah refused to allow distractions to prevent him from doing what the Lord wanted him to do.

Worth of Souls

In these latter days the worth of souls is a value that has not changed since the dawn of mankind. Since the creation of the earth our Heavenly Father has always valued each and every tender soul. This is reflected in the story of a man in North Africa.

Pres. Hinckley's letter:

Dear Bro. Walker, we have your v-mail letter of February 22nd in which you request transcriptions of the choir and organ as a possible broadcast in the area in which you are now serving. It will interest you to know that we are now sending these records weekly to England for rebroadcast over the American Forces Network there...
We will endeavor to ship you a set of recordings... These should be taken to the officer in charge of the Expeditionary Forces Network for audition and if he desires them, regularly we will endeavor to have the Army provide them for that are on the same basis as they are now providing them for England... Please advise us as early as possible and suggestions you might have on shipping them.
Sincerely your brethren,
Church Radio Committee: Gordon B. Hinckley, Secretary.

This letter was written to Lt. Elmo Walker. Brother Walker worked tirelessly to establish the church in North Africa where he was stationed. Bro. Walker first heard about LDS services being held in the are in a copy of STARS AND STRIPS. In the first service all 3 members in attendance prayed fervently to the Lord that they would be able to find their fellow brethren and sisters in the area. The very next Sunday, there were 36 people in attendance, and within a few short weeks over 50 people came. A branch was established shortly thereafter. Eventually the leadership decided to have a sunset Easter service. No church Easter service is complete without "refreshments". In this case, the members did the best they could with cheese and spam sandwiches. Lt. Walker remarked, "I believe all who came with agree that the spiritual refreshment we received on this simple occasion would have amply repaid us for the journey." Bro. Walker is one of thousands of members that worked tirelessly to perpetuate the Church in the midst of war.
Even President Hinckley did all he could to promote the growth of the Gospel in a little known corner of the earth during a time of global tribulation.
Lt. Walker and Pres. Hinckley understood that the worth of souls is invaluable.

Conclusion

Brethren and sisters, it is through the establishment of the Lord's Gospel that peace will be achieved. Those who have gone before us have set a precedent. In the midst of global turmoil they worked vigorously to establish the Gospel on earth. It is through mankind's collective efforts to follow the Gospel that the world will come to reconcile its differences. When the Gospel is more fully accepted into the heart of man true peace can be achieved.

Get me out, pt.3

2009-06-12T22:47:00.001-07:00

Tonight, the one roommate called the cops on the ones upstairs. This house has officially become ridiculous.

An open letter to the two

2009-06-10T22:22:00.000-07:00

Dear whoever you are,

I don't know you and you certainly don't know me. Let me explain myself, please. These last few days I've been feeling a little off. I feel like I've been made to be useless by the world. I have been playing dumb dog to some girl who doesn't like me, and yet I somehow thought that I could change her mind. Oops. I was there for her, I opened myself up so that she had something soft to rest on, I did everything I could to make her feel special. She did not return the favor and I find myself feeling flat because of it. It's been going on like this for a little over a month, but these last few days it really kicked in. I feel like I was used and thrown away for nothing. Alas. While this was going on, I found myself feeling the insanity of this house and one particular housemate dripping into my head, like I was being chinese tortured. Drip, drip, drip, searing pain. That's about what it felt like. I had no place to go, and no one to really turn to. Even when I went out, I found myself feeling useless and worthless. People I once knew seemed to not want to know me anymore, or I became something to be turned away from. It was getting to me.
Tonight, I decided to stop being used as emotional toilet paper and stood up for myself. I made it clear that I wasn't going to be that for this girl anymore and walked out. I was shocked to find myself angry. Angry at her for so non-chalantly playing me the way she did, angry at myself for letting myself be used for nothing again, and angry for being angry at myself. I'm scared to death of my own emotions sometimes because they are nothing more than reminders that I'm not perfect. When I left her house, I went home and tried to take it out on my guitar, but it didn't work. So I left for a walk. I walked a pretty good distance, and all the while there was a song line going through my head: "At night I walk these streets with no purpose, feeling like I'm worthless." Not good. I had reached the zenith of my walk and started back when you two found me. I thought you were trying to pull into the parking lot I was walking past. When I turned and saw the window down with a head poking out of it, I thought you were looking for directions. When I saw the money in your outstretched hand I was completely at a loss. The younger of you two, the one closer to me, you had so much love and concern in your eyes and I felt it. I can't even imagine what my face looked like to you, but you made no sign that it was anything but beautifully important to you. I think I stammered something. I think. I don't know. I lowered my head and saw the older of you two sitting behind the driver's wheel. I honestly don't remember what you said, but I knew that you were both worried about me and wanted me to be okay. I cannot begin to tell you what that meant to me. You'll never know. I think I finally got out that I had just had a long day and decided to go for a long walk, but that I was fine. You both never stopped beaming honest to goodness love and concern at me, and when you drove away, I know it was only because you both knew that I was going to be okay. As I watched you pull away, I was shocked to see you pull up and turn around. You had seen me from the other side of the street! You weren't even going my way! And yet you turned around to see if I, a complete stranger, was okay and if I needed any help. God bless you both. God bless you both with everything you could ever hope for and need. I will never forget the lesson and love you showed me tonight. I hope that I can return the favor to someone someday. When you drove away, I found myself finishing the line from the song stuck in my head: "but contrary to my last statement, I'm doing fine..." I am doing fine.

love always,
Taylor

Thoughts on a book, pt. 6

2009-06-05T11:46:00.000-07:00

In pt. 4 I mentioned a dream that Vronsky had about a muzhik he had just been hunting with. I think it's worth a little description. In the dream, this bearded peasant was leaning over a bag, saying something in French. It apparently freaked Vronsky out quite a bit. The reason I bring it up is because Anna had a similar dream.

"I had this dream long ago. I dreamed that I ran into my bedroom, that I had to get something there, to find something out - you know how it happens in dreams," she said, her eyes wide with horror, "and there was something standing in the bedroom, in the corner...And this something turned, and I saw it was a muzhik with a disheveled beard, small and frightening. I wanted to run away, but he bent over a sack and rummaged in it with his hands..."
And she show how he rummaged in the sack. There was horror in her face. And Vronsky, recalling his dream, felt the same horror filling his soul.
"He rummages and mutters in French, very quickly and rolling his r's in his throat, you know: 'Il faut le battre le fer, le broyer, le petrir... (You must beat the iron, pound it, knead it)' And I was so frightened that I wanted to wake up, and I woke up...but I woke up in a dream. And I wondered what it meant."

In the ballet when I saw it, this dream was danced out several times. The man was supposed to be the man who gets hit by the train at the very beginning, and he and Anna dance. It was pretty creepy to watch, but I didn't know that the book had something similar. In the play, the dead man came around whenever Anna made a decision that took her further from her family. It was one of the things in the play that really stuck with me, and I very clearly remember two dances that he was in. The first was after a party and the second was at the very end. Anyway, I jsut wanted to put this up because this character in the book is genuinely creepy, which is amazing because he's not even a real character. He's just the representation of her choices. Amazing.

Thoughts on a book, pt. 5

2009-06-05T11:29:00.000-07:00

I hope I'm not ruining this book for everyone else who has never read it but intends to.

One thing about this book that is really amazing to read is how deeply the actions of Anna have affected everyone around her. I sort of always thought that adultery destroyed a marriage and made a fool of the adulterer, but apparently I was mistaken. This is a whole family being destroyed bit by bit. Anna falters in the beginning, and her love for her husband is shaken. She makes a choice to follow something she knows is bad and suddenly she has been morally murdered by Vronsky, who, throughout the course of the rest of the book, watches himself leprously rot away from the inside out. Anna loves her son, but hates her husband. Her husband comes to hate not only her, but also his son. The man hates his son because his wife cheated on him. Anna's delivery of her love child is difficult, almost to the point of death. Her husband finds himself glad at the news, and when he gets home to find her alive, he is shocked and disgusted to discover that he was hoping for death because it would have solved everything. Even more disturbing is when he feels joy at the hope that she may die yet. Anna's brother and his wife are forced to deal with what happened, and Anna suddenly becomes something different in their eyes.

Bottom line: don't cheat. It's dumb. And makes a horrible person out of you and potentially everyone you touch.

I think there's something to be said for following through on commitments, regardless of one's desire to do so. Several times I remember Mom and Dad fighting about whatever, as all parents fight from time to time. I remember that I used to be afraid that they would break up, but they never have. I talked to my mom about it one time and she said that she made a convenant and so did my dad and they would stick it out til forever stopped existing. It's inspiring and I fully intend to follow my parents' example on this.

Thoughts on a book, pt. 4

2009-06-04T08:35:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I wrote anything about ye olde "Anna Karenina", mostly because it's been a while since I've had the chance to read it. I just started book 4 in it and right off the bat it got me. I don't know that I have anything particularly deep or whatever to say about it, but there are two things within the space of one page that got me specifically.

A: Vronsky seems to be filling up with some sort of self loathing that he wasn't expecting. The 4th book starts off with him leading a visiting Prince around Russia, and he finds himself really disliking this guy. Part of the dislike he has is that he can see himself in this prince and he doesn't like what he sees. Tolstoy describes it as an "awkward situation and unpleasant mirror". On the day that he gets rid of this guy, he gets a note from Anna telling him that her husband was going to be gone from the house from 7-10, and he decides to take a nap before going over. He has a nightmare about a muzhik he went hunting with that scares him, though the dream isn't really described in too much detail. He wakes up and finds that he is an hour and a half late in going, so he immediately gets into his carriage and heads over. Now, the thing that makes this part so stand out to me is the fact that everyone knows about everyone else. Anna's husband knows she's seeing Vronsky, Vronksy knows he knows, and no one likes the situation. All of them hope that someone else will fix the horrible situation. So when Vronsky gets to the house at 10 to nine, Vronksy feels safe. As he rings the door, a servant opens it and looks at him in horror. Vronsky wonders what's up until he sees Anna's husband walk out the door. They see each other and right about here my heart stopped.

I've been in situations where I've seen someone that I have a deep emotional connection with against my will, and I remember feeling this tightening in my chest when I saw this person on accident. My whole body started to shake and my mouth went dry. I think that I felt that on behalf of both of these guys. That's good writing.

B: This little piece is from when Anna and Vronsky see each other, immediately after the awkward meeting with her husband.

"She placed both hands on his shoulders and gazed at him for a long time with a deep, rapturous and at the same time searching look. She studied his face to make up for the time in which she had not seen him. As at every meeting, she was bringing together her imaginary idea of him (an incomparably better one, impossible in reality) with him as he was."

Been there, and when I realized that my imaginary love was just that, everything fell apart. Well written, Tolstoy.

I'm sorry, I didn't intend to do this again

2009-05-16T15:49:00.000-07:00

You know what really pisses me off? I have a friend who started complaining to me about her mother in law. Apparently, her evil mother in law bought her and her husband a car. The car ended up dieing, but that's okay, the mother in law bought it. Horrible person, I know. My friend's complaint is that her evil in law didn't consider the need her children would have to build credit. And now she won't cosign on another car. Nevermind the fact that there hasn't been a model history of a steady job in the house for a while. Not important. And nevermind the fact that she has a scooter and can still get around town. And never mind the fact that her husband is pulling in enough money to pay for 3 months worth of needs in one month. Nevermind that. Her evil in law won't give them a signature to buy a new car. Horrible. Just horrible. This brings to mind another friend I have who is mad at her mother in law over wedding ridiculousness. Nevermind the fact that the in law gave literally every dollar her family had to the wedding. That horrible in law ruined everything.

In my life, I have been in a rich family and a broke family. In the rich family, I watched vehicles get purchased for people. I saw it. I watched free cars handed out. If the money flow hadn't changed I would no doubt have also gotten a free car. But hey, they money flow did change and I didn't get a free car. Boo freaking hoo. I don't give a crap that my brother and sister got help with their cars because I know I would have gotten help if there was the money for it. There wasn't, so I didn't get a car. Somehow the world kept turning. I borrowed cars. I asked for rides. I rode the bus. I waited until I was 24 to get a car. And with 2 VERY notable exceptions I have paid every dollar of insurance, gas, and loan out of my own pocket. And as soon as I get a job, I'm paying all of the payments again. That's sort of what happens when you grow up. You get cut off from the magic pot of gold your parents have and you make your own. Am I angry at all towards my parents or my siblings? Absolutely not. In no way, shape, or form do I fault them for me having to man up and get my own car. That's life. Truth be told, I'm grateful to know that I did it. And yeah, I've had to ask for help, but if I would have been told no, I would have found some other way to make it work. That is life. Life is not free, no one has an obligation to give you what you want.

I have a hard time when people throw out blanket terms like "bad parents" or "evil". There are bad parents, I've stared them face to face. Let me PROMISE you, your parents are not evil. Promise. Freaking promise.

Get me out pt. 2

2009-05-04T13:30:00.000-07:00

I should clarify some stuff about my last blog. I'm leaving it up because it's really how I felt at the time. However, my comments were colored by some things and not colored by other things at all. I was tired and more tired, plus stressed about finals. I was angry at the lack of respect I was being shown. I wrote about it, and that was that. I didn't yell at them, I didn't do anything destructive, I just sort of went in my room and took my frustrations out in writing. I should have taken it out on my guitar, actually. As for my word choice, I said what I did because to me, it has nothing to do with sexual orientation but more of how they aren't respectable. Fag is a sign that I don't respect you, not that I hate you because you're gay.

Having said that, I feel like I should say something else. I write because it's something that I'm good at. Lots of times in my life I've felt very misunderstood and unable to communicate, and writing is one of the few things that I can use to really get my point across when I can't do it any other way. I write for myself, because literally I feel like sometimes if I don't say something I'm going to explode. That night, I was about to explode and the choices were guitar, writing, or punching a wall. I've learned my lesson about punching stuff through a history of punching stuff. My guitar felt heavy and bloated that night, so I let my fingers scream over my keyboard. Some might understandably ask why I posted it on my blog then if it was a burst of anger. My answer is that it all comes down to this blog being my piece of humanity. My anger is pretty rare, but when it comes, I can't deny it or hide it. I wish I could hide my anger or bury it, but I gave up that ability years ago in favor of experiencing life, both the good and bad aspects of it. My anger is a sign of my humanity and I stand by it because I have no other choice. To apologize for how I feel is to remove my ability to feel in the first place. I do apologize for how I express myself sometimes. I'm not the best at it and I have been known to step on my own feet while dancing through life. But it is my dance and I have to learn from my missteps. I'm sorry for how it made people feel, that is true. I really am. I don't ever mean to hurt anyone's feelings or sensibilities ever, that's the honest to goodness truth. But I felt how I did, and that's what came out. Sorry.

p.s. - I have no anger or ill will to anyone who was offended by it, either. To be that way would be incredibly hypocritical on my part. I don't think that we as humans should ever apologize for how we feel, but we should and need to be able to constantly reevaluate where we stand and why we feel what we do so we can make sure we never stand in the wrong.

get me out

2009-04-27T22:15:00.000-07:00

This house that I live in is ridiculous. Between the upstairs fags who don't own a single spine to share between the lot of them (with 2.5 notable exceptions), a downstairs new roomie who's as much a fag as the dudes upstairs, and another downstairs roommate who can not ever stop being noisy, I'm about to lose my mind. I don't know what it is about these indie douche bags who think they need to be dicks, but it's getting old. Seriously, how old are you people? Are you so spineless that you can't come downstairs and ask the 20 year old who weighs MAYBE a buck twenty to turn his music down? Are you afraid he might... well, there's nothing to be afraid of because he's a good kid. Loud, but good. But I can feel their pain because the constant noise is getting to me. I can't handle it. But at least I have the balls to approach him and say "Hey, it's late, turn it off". It's not hard! It doesn't make you less of a man! In fact, it makes you more of a man because you are capable of fixing problems. My problem is the segregation that exists because I live in the basement. Seriously, am I down here because I'm leprous? Is there a reason you guys don't possess a single ounce of human dignity, not a single redeeming quality? You guys are probably all so busy trying to hide your homoerotic activities from the honor code that you failed to realize that the rest of us know. I want to set you all on fire so I can pee on you to put it out. ROAR.

Finals are almost over, and the summer is fast approaching. Here's to a better tomorrow.

Quick Testimony

2009-04-16T22:28:00.000-07:00

I know that Jesus is the Christ, that God is a real being, someone deeply interested in our lives. I know this. I know that the Book of Mormon contains the word of God as given to prophets, men who strived on a daily basis to be more like the Savior. I know that I can be closer to God by living the kind of life I should be. I am grateful that I know this and I hope that I live in such a way that 1) the people around me get to know the Savior through my actions and 2) that I can return home to my Heavenly Family when I die. God is good.

New York + family + friends = great time

2009-04-11T10:13:00.001-07:00

I've decided that New York isn't really built for people without the ability to walk easily. Having said that, I'm having a blast and a half. My nephew is a killer lookin' little feller. When you hold him it's impossible not to smile. He is super calm, super relaxed, just a stallion of a kid. He's super wriggly too. He can already roll over on his own (!) at 10 days and is very accepting. I was holding him last night and he started sucking on the webbing on my hand between my thumb and index finger. Too cute. I'll have some pictures up soon.
Yesterday I went for a long trip around New York with my good friend Amber who I haven't seen for about a year. It was tons of fun. We saw the Statue of Liberty, Wall Street, Battery Park, The East Village, Union Square, and all kinds of other fun stuff. She took me to this place for lunch that had bacon wrapped hot dogs. As a hot dog fan, I can say that it was probably one of the best hot dogs I've ever had, and that's saying a lot. My knee is on fire today because of yesterday, but it was so worth it. I really wanted to take my sisters out today and show them everything, but it wasn't happening because it hurt too much.
I think that for me the weirdest part of being an uncle is knowing that my brother is a dad. I'm sitting next to him right now watching him hold his child and it's just blowing my mind. He's a great dad and Paolo is lucky to have him.
More later.

To no one in particular

2009-03-29T22:31:00.000-07:00

I've spent the last few years of my life cultivating certain abilities. I want very much to understand people, to see what makes them tick. I feel like I'm making really good progress. Unfortunately, it's opening up some pretty unsavory things to me. I can see inconsistencies in people and it really gets to me. I see people who have no reason to lie continue to lie. I can see in their eyes what they think. Though their lips say one thing, I can see what their eyes really say. I can see it. I know when people are lieing to me, and they try and cover it up and think I can't tell. Maybe they think that because I haven't called them on it. I don't think I should have to call people on it. As adults, we are all capable of being honest with ourselves and each other. Don't lie to me. I know when you do, I always do, and I know what the lie is trying to cover. It is insulting beyond words to be lied to, and to be quite frank it really pisses me off.

My cultivation efforts have taught me more about human nature than I thought possible. The overall truth about almost everyone is that they really truly want to do what is good and right. Truly. I've also learned that almost everyone is fear driven. People with much more education than I have written extensive books on personality theories, but I haven't found one that I completely agree with. I think there is a little truth in every one of them, but I don't think they can accurately portray reason to act or intent very well. My experience has taught me that everyone is afraid of something, and their actions are set up as a safe gaurd against what they are afraid of. To clarify, I think that the defining characteristics of a person are shaped by what they are afraid of. Do I think it should be this way? No. That doesn't change the fact that fear is a driving force in people's lives, especially if you really break down the reasons people do what they do. Why do people attend school? Love of learning? Why is it that none of the students I know love school when they're in it? Everyone I know is in college to get a good job because they're afraid of what will happen to their lives if they don't have one. Why do people do things that are hard for them? I think that it might be because they're afraid of what it means about them if they don't succeed. Why do people lie? Because they're afraid of the truth. Why do people stay in places they don't want to be? Fear that it's worse somewhere else. Or fear that they won't succeed in the new place. We are all so afraid of our own shadows, but no one acknowledges it! No one wants to fail, no one wants to be a loser, no one wants to have less respect when parts of their personality are revealed. Unfortunately for all of us, we can't grow as people until we acknowledge our fears and face them. Now, having said all of that, not all fear is bad. There is absolutely nothing wrong with going to school to get a good education that leads to a good job. There's nothing wrong with enjoying a good challenge and the satisfaction of overcoming it. I just think that too often we're afraid to look at ourselves and acknowledge that we like what we see. That would make us arrogant after all, and who wants to be around an arrogant ass?

I'm not childish. I'm not stupid. I'm not weak. I am afraid of being seen that way, so I do what I can to exude the qualities that show me as strong, capable, mature, and intelligent. I try to be in complete control of my emotions, and when I'm not it scares me and makes me feel weak, which in turn makes it more difficult for me to control my emotions. It's a nasty cycle. What are you afraid of? Why are you afraid of it?

Final thought, to those of you (most of whom probably will never read this anyway) who lie to me and think I don't know: I know. And I'm not going to put up with it anymore.

To You

2009-03-22T00:38:00.000-07:00

Yeah, you know who you are. I haven't written to you in a long time. It's been a good amount of time since we really hung out, and yet I feel just as close to you now as I did all that time ago. I was thinking back on the last year and the myriad of things that have happened. I was actually reading on your blog and for fun I went back to see what the past held for us that you captured so well. It's so funny to read now, not because it wasn't valid or whatever, but because we know now how it all turned out. I remember a blessing you got where you were told that you were so close, sooo close. I don't think it was the blessing you were looking for, but it's what you got. And of course it was right. You were so close it was amazing. I am willing to bet that you wouldn't change the outcome for anything. You, my friend, have won. And you are my friend. I hope you know that.
I just wanted to say a few things to you, and I'll say them quickly. First and foremost, I'm so glad that we are friends, and I'm so glad that we met when we did. You were the closest person to me in Utah, you were one of the very very few who went out of their way to understand me, and I think you are one of 3 people total who ever really really really 100% got me. That is priceless to me, so thank you. Second, I'm sorry for what I put you through. Hindsight is of course 20/20, and I see now that I didn't handle it very well towards the end. At the time, I thought it was the best way to handle it, and it seems like it really was because it worked out really well, but I'm still sorry you had to hurt. Really honestly truly. But like I said, it worked out so well! So well! I wouldn't trade my memories with you for anything, but (and I know you'll take this the right way) I'm glad that you have new memories with someone new now. You are truly one of the great ones, and your husband better tell you that everyday (I know he does, I've heard you talk about him). I'm so happy for you! Your life seems to be exactly what you wanted it to be, and it all happened within such a short space of time. You win, my friend. I'm happy I could see it. I will always love you to death and be there for you. I'm glad I'm not the only one. :-)

An old paper

2009-03-12T10:25:00.000-07:00

I have an interview today for a company that is looking for someone to write web content. For the interview, they requested that I bring in smaples of my writing, and so I'm bringing in two papers that I wrote for two different classes. Both of them recieved perfect scores and both were handed back with a note at the top reading "please make me a copy of this". I'm pretty proud that my professors have enjoyed my writing style enough to request my work for personal uses. In re-reading one of the papers, I was a little shocked that I had actually written it. Is it bad that I like my paper? Anyway, I thought I would go ahead and post it here for all 2 of you to read. Bonus points if you can name all of the songs quoted without cheating and using google to look them up. Enjoy!

"Heaven's dead when you get sad." "She's a brick and I'm drowning slowly." Simple words that appear in small, black lines and curves. There's nothing particularly beautiful about the shape of the words, nor is there anything amazing in the actual words. And yet these are examples of what beauty is. They simply need to have the right inflection, the right voice behind them, the right chords. Basically, in an ideal situation, the words combine with air in a smoothie of amazingness. They become thick and juicy. As they ooze into your ears, through the various bones that make up the ear drum, and end up in your brain as electrical signals, they somehow gain potency. It's almost like the electrical current that is transferred in your brain as sound is made electric with the elements of love, grace, affection, fear, hate, and any other emotion you've ever heard in someone's voice or hands as they make music.

"For you I'd wait 'til Kingdom come, until my days, my days are done. Say you'll come and set me free, just say you'll wait. You'll wait for me." Annie Dillard writes about the ideas of beauty and grace and violence and death throughout her entire book. They seem to course in her veins and bleed through the fingers she used to write and type. She tackles the idea of the veracity of beauty, the power of beauty, even the reality of beauty. The one story above all else she tells that hits me most is the story of the Eskimo bride strangled and skinned by a jealous mother. The mother wears the face, and when the son gets home he lies down with the woman he thinks is his wife. The cold water dripping off his face shrinks the skin on the mother's head, revealing an imposter, one searching for approval through falsehoods. The young man runs away rightfully terrified and probably disgusted. One wonders what goes through his head as he runs away. Does he question himself and his guilt in what happened? Does he feel disgust for himself for not knowing immediately that his "wife" was in fact an imposter? The point that Annie seems to have been making was that it's possible that, when we stop and look at the world for what it is, the skin comes off and all that we can see are wrinkles. She quickly goes on to say that this is not possible, that there is far too much beauty in the world to deny its existence. What she never goes into is what it would feel like to be in the mother's shoes.

"Pacific sun, you should have warned us it gets so cold here and the night can freeze before you can set a fire." My life has been a quest to find a way to make beauty. I sometimes feel like I'm shouting "take notice, take interest!", desperate for the young son, representing the world, to look past the beauty of youth and idealism for the old haggard me, covered in wrinkles and full of emotion and wonder. What did the mother see when she looked at her reflection after killing her own daughter? Even more interesting, what did she see when she looked at her reflection as she wore the dead skin of a dead beauty? In my mind, she looks at herself and sees shame, so she covers it with a mask. But with the mask on, you can still see the lines, you can see where illusion stops and painful reality scream out to be noticed, to have interest shown. She must have realized that it would fail, but was so desperate for love and attention that she told her brain to ignore the obvious lines of falsehood. I sometimes wonder if I'm the daughter being skinned for someone else or if I'm the mother skinning my own flesh and blood to be seen as something that I'm not.

"My hands are trembling, and my eyes are on fire. This house is crumbling, left brain left out on the wire. My past is perilous, but each scar I bear sings monuments to where I have been and melodies to where I am going."

I have come to grips with the reality that I'm not perfect and that not everyone will look at me and see something that they like. I sometimes have found myself wishing that, even though they don't see something they like, they still see beauty. Isn't that what we all want? Wasn't that the point of the jealous mother? She wanted to be seen as something desirable and worthwhile by the son-in-law. Is that a bad desire? No. Something was lost in the translation of intent to action, and unfortunately she never saw it. What would her daughter have said if she had known that her mother wanted to be loved by the son-in-law? I suppose we'll never know.

"Hear you me, my friends." Whether or not I'm the beautiful youth or the wrinkled elder, I'm still in this story somehow. What if I'm the young man? Who is killing themselves and those around them to be beautiful for me? Am I taking the time to notice them? If I notice, I sure hope that I'm applauding their notions of beauty.

"I am covered in skin. No one gets to come in. Pull me out from inside, I am folded and unfolded and unfolding." Regardless of my theoretical involvement in the story, I am in actuality just Taylor. I am sitting at a desk listening to songs. And yet beauty is all around me. I have come to the conclusion that beauty would be worthless if it weren't for imperfection, for the things everyone thinks we should mask up. Our ugly insides are really the most beautiful parts of us because it is what we are.

My life is wonderful. Everyone's lives are wonderful. All we need to do is stop looking at the words our lives seem to write on the air and listen to the accompanying chords and melodies. "I am ready, I am ready, I am ready, I am. Fine. I am fine."

Thoughts on a book, pt. 3

2009-02-17T22:04:00.000-08:00

I was reading this tonight and it kicked me in the gut. The whole time I didn't understand why it was that a big deal was being made of Vronsky and his love of riding.

This excerpt is from a race that is being battled out at the front by Vronksy (the man that Anna is having her affair with) riding his horse Frou-Frou, and Makhotin, the only person Vronsky considered a threat in the race. At this point, Vronsky has just taken the lead and cleared a large gap. Take it for what you will, but I know that it really got me thinking.

"'Oh, my lovely!' he thought of Frou-Frou, listening to what was happening behind him. 'He cleared it!' he thought, hearing Gladiator's [Makhotin's horse] hoofbeats behind him. There remained one little ditch of water five feet wide. Vronsky was not even looking at it, but wishing to come in a long first, began working the reigns in a circle, raising and lowering the horse's head in rhythm with her pace. He felt that the horse was drawing on her last reserve; not only were her neck and shoulders wet, but sweat broke out in drops on her withers, her head, her pointed ears, and her breathing was sharp and short. But he knew that his reserve was more than enough for the remaining five hundred yards. Only because he felt himself closer to the earth, and from the special softness of her movement, could Vronsky tell how much the horse had increased her speed. She flew over the ditch as if without noticing it; she flew over it like a bird; but just then Vronsky felt to his horror that, having failed to keep up with his horse's movement, he, not knowing how himself, had made a wrong, an unforgiveable movement as he lowered himself into the saddle. His position suddenly changed, and he knew that something terrible had happened. He was not yet aware of what it was, when the white legs of the chestnut stallion flashed just beside him and Makhotin went by at a fast clip. Vronsky was touching the ground with one foot and his horse was toppling over on that foot. He barely managed to free his foot before she fell on her side, breathing heavily and making vain attempts to rise with her slender, sweaty neck, fluttering on the ground at his feet like a wounded bird. The awkward movement that Vronsky had made had broken her back. But he understood that much later. Now he only saw Makhotin was quickly drawing away, while he, swaying, stood alone on the muddy, unmoving ground, and before him, gasping heavily, lay Frou-Frou, her head turned to him, looking at him with her lovely eye. Still not understanding what had happened, Vronsky pulled the horse by the reins. She again thrashed all over like a fish, creaking the wings of the saddle, freed her front legs, but, unable to lift her hindquarters, immediately staggered and fell on her side again. His face disfigured by passion, pale, his lower jaw trembling, Vronsky kicked her in the stomach with his heel and again started pulling at the reins. She did not move but, burying her nose in the ground, merely looked at her master with her speaking eye...To his dismay, he felt that he was whole and unhurt. The horse had broken her back and they decided to shoot her." (Tolstoy, p. 199-200)

Freaking wow.